LIBR RY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, j 






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JAMES STOKES DICKERSON: 



MEMORIES OF HIS LIFE 



BY HIS WIFE, 



EMMA R DICKERSON, 

ASSISTED BY 

PROF. A> C. KENDRICK, D.D., 
i 

OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER. 







NEW YORK: SHELDON & CO. 

CHICAGO: S. C. GRIGGS AND COMPANY. 

1879. 







J 



A 



s 9 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by 

EMMA R. DICKERSON, 
in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



DONNELLEY, GASSETTE & LOYD, PRINTERS, CHICAGO. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 



The author of this memoir desires to acknowledge 
especial obligation, for aid in its preparation, to Prof. 
A. C. Kendrick, D.D., Rev. J. A. Smith, D.D., Rev. 
J. D. Fulton, D.D., Pres. M. B. Anderson, L.L.D., 
Rev. D. B. Cheney, D.D., Rev. E. K. Alden, D.D., Rev. 
Geo. C. Lorimer, D.D., Pres. H. E. Robins, D.D., Prof. 
W. C. Wilkinson, D.D., Rev. A. H. Burlingham, D.D., 
Rev. William Aikman, D.D., and other family friends. 



ESTRODTJCTIOX 



Macaulay, in one of his brilliant essays, declares that men 
are prone to extol the virtues and forget the faults of the 
honored ones who have passed away: that they transform into 
idols those who were never idolized in life; and often speak 
of them in such a way that those who knew them best would 
fail to recognize them. The general truth of the statement 
may be beyond question ; yet I willingly leave it to the readers 
of the following memorial to decide whether it is without 
exception. I feel assured that while, even to many who knew 
him, this record of the life of one of God's choicest servants 
will reveal much hitherto unsuspected by them, his inner circle 
of friends will rise from its perusal with the conviction that 
the portraiture is one of substantial truth, and yet that scarcely 
the half has been unfolded. 

I do not undertake this work in the belief that my late 
husband was one of the great men of his time; but in the 
conviction that there are comparatively few who, in this world 
of sin and selfishness, live a life so pure, so beautiful, and so 
noble as his; few who bring to all who come into contact 
with them so much of joy and sunshine; few who themselves 
labor from higher motives, or are a source to others of loftier 
inspiration; few who in a long career have kept themselves so 
nearly " unspotted from the world," or illustrated so beautifully 
the entire round of the Christian graces, Shall net such be 
deemed great in that order of things that brings to greatness 
its proper standard ? 

To me, I may say with frankness, my husband seemed well- 

(5) 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

nigh perfect. To be conscious of his true, deep, ever-joyous 
love; to lean trustingly on his faithful arm, and bask in the 
sunshine of his inspiring presence; to be radiant with joy in his 
companionship, to sit under his attractive and Christ-like min- 
istry, and in turn to minister joyfully to his comfort amidst 
perpetual words of loving appreciation — all this was to me 
little less than an earthly heaven. He was the center and the sun 
of our happy household. His absence but for a few hours made 
us sensible of a change of atmosphere. To hear his key in the 
door was the signal that we should be flooded with sunshine 
and laughter; that the children would have a good frolic; that 
words of mingled tenderness and humor would be spoken, and 
an electric thrill of gladness over the coming of "dear papa" 
would run round the whole household circle. 

Yet were this all, it might be well to cherish the happy 
memories in the quietude of our own hearts and home. Other 
husbands have made homes happy; other wives have loved 
them as truly and tenderl}'; other children have looked with 
loving reverence to those whom they were proud to call their 
father. But this was far from all. In his boyhood he was 
lored by all his companions; in his youth every acquaintance 
became a friend ; in his college daj r s he was, by universal testi- 
mony, alike with students, professors, and the community, a 
universal favorite. On entering the world from college, he 
made friends of all his business acquaintances; was welcomed 
into every circle, and carried everywhere not only the light 
of his beaming smile, of his sunny temper, of his genial and 
sympathetic nature, but an instant and active response to every 
appeal of human need and sorrow to his warm heart and 
unfailing benevolence; while to the thousands who have sat 
under his ministry and shared his visits and counsels as pastor 
and friend, his very name is a talisman to evoke the sweetest 
associations and the most sacred memories. Loving all, he was 
loved by all. Living supremely for Christ, the affections and 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

energies which he had consecrated to him he poured out as 
from a full urn, lavishly and unselfishly, upon the great work 
of purifying and elevating men. 

The story of a life so intrinsically beautiful, and, tried by 
the true standard of success, so eminently successful, will be 
read with interest by those who knew him, and will, I am 
persuaded, prove to multitudes who knew him not, a source 
of moral quickening and inspiration. The portrayal of it in 
its principles and its workings can scarcely fail to be salutary 
and ennobling. If the evil that men do too commonly lives 
after them, it is surely our duty and our privilege to endeavor 
that virtue shall have a like survival, and that the richest and 
purest Christian graces shall not share the grave of him in 
whom they were embodied to purify and bless humanity. I 
sit down, therefore, with a happy heart to the work of perpet- 
uating the memory of one so dearly loved, and along with 
this, so far as I may, his Christ-like and blessed influence. 
For him to live was Christ. May his beautiful life and con- 
sistent Christian example inspire in me and others the like 
spirit of consecration; may it urge us to keep, like him, near 
to the Savior, that ours may at length be, like his, the Apos- 
tolic triumph that we have fought the good fight, and won 
the crown of righteousness that awaits us in the day of his 
appearing. 

With many precious memories of the past, and bright hopes 
of the glad hereafter, this little volume is given to the Chris- 
tian public. 

Emma R. Dickersox. 



JAMES S. DlCKERSON". 



CHAPTER I. 



BIRTH AND PARENTAGE. 



James S. Dickerson was born in the city of 
Philadelphia, July 6, 1825. His father, John 
Dickerson, was a Pennsylvanian by birth, and a 
prominent man in its most populous city, and also 
in the county. He had come to Philadelphia when 
a boy, and learned the carriage-making trade with 
his brother, and very soon disclosed a remarkable 
genius for mechanics, for printing, and for music. 
When he became a man he took many positions of 
trust in the community ; was elected coroner of the 
city and county of Philadelphia, and at the expira- 
tion of his term of office was re-elected for three 
years. For many years he was a lumber merchant, 
and invented a rule for measuring lumber, which 
could be used as a cane. He made the canes him- 
self, stamped all the figures upon them, and finished 
them at home in the evenings. 

Although a good business man, and familiar with 
public and official life, he was even better known in 
social circles. Prepossessing in appearance, genial 
in manner, full of humor, and an excellent musician, 

(9) 



10 JAMES S. DICXERSOX. 

he was a favorite wherever such qualities had scope, 
and was constantly required, alike at weddings and 
evening gatherings, to lend the charm of his pres- 
ence and voice to the entertainment. He composed 
church music, engraved his own plates, and printed 
his own compositions. Some of his books are still 
in existence. Braham, of England, who during 
these years was a noted vocalist, when he visited 
America, went to Philadelphia to see " John Dick- 
erson, the singer and composer." He was a very 
conscientious man and one who loved to make 
others happy. In a large, comfortable building 
which he owned near his house, he had during 
winter evenings his singing classes : one, for those 
who paid him for their instruction a moderate sum, 
and the other, for the poor. The money he received 
was spent in buying singing books for such of those 
whom he wished to teach as were unable to pay, so 
that all might be able to sing in church correctly. 
His singing served him many a good turn. Once, 
while journeying from Philadelphia to Ohio, alter- 
nately by stage-coach, or canal, or on foot, he stopped 
for dinner at a farm-house. He had been walking for 
miles, and had about thirty more to travel before he 
reached the stage-coach line again. Seeing in a 
field near the house a fine white colt, he asked the 
woman, who had just given him a good bowl of 
bread and milk, to let him saddle the colt and ride 
these thirty miles. Such was the custom of those 
days, some one returning over the route bringing 
back the horse the next day. She refused to let 
him take it. As he sat resting he began to sing a 



REMINISCENCES. 11 

plaintive song entitled " Joseph and his brethren." 
Before he had finished the first two stanzas, the 
woman stopped her work and wept. As he ceased 
singing she turned and said, with a trembling voice, 
" Sing me the rest of that song, sir, and yon may 
have the colt." His singing did not quite equal, in 
its effects, the " redemption " that "rose up in the 
Attic Muse " when the plaintive strains of Euripides, 
chanted by the Athenian captives, softened their 
masters in the Sicilian quarries ; but, at all events, 
it saved him a hot and dusty walk of thirty miles. 

His conscientiousness was as striking as his music, 
of which trait a slight illustration is preserved in 
the following incident of his boyhood. While with 
his brother in the carriage -making trade he was 
sent, as they were in but moderate circumstances, 
with a jug to buy a small quantity of oil. For the 
dollar which he handed the merchant in payment, 
he received four silver pieces, each of which he sup- 
posed to be a quarter of a dollar. As he looked at 
them, he resolved to keep one of the quarters and 
give his brother the three to which he was entitled. 
He had more than a mile to walk: the jug with its 
rope handle was not an easy thing to carry, and he 
had frequently to sib down and rest on the way. 
But the more he rested in body, the more he grew 
unquiet in his conscience, until when he nearly 
reached home, the inner burden became heavier 
than the outer, and forced him with the double 
weight all the way back. Showing the merchant 
the coin he had given him, and saying that it was 
too much, he was asked how soon he had made the 



12 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

discovery. He replied, " As soon as I left the store, 
but I was almost home before I made up my mind 
to return the money." The merchant explained that 
the boy was mistaken in the value of the pieces, 
that the change he had given him was right, " and 
here," he added, " is a quarter dollar for your hon- 
esty." The incident no doubt strengthened those 
conscientious principles which became prime ele- 
ments of his character, and of which another 
pleasing trait is recorded. He accepted the office 
of Coroner — then more reputable than it is now — 
for a definite and noble purpose. It was an old-time 
custom in Philadelphia for the twelve jurors who 
held the inquest, to receive, instead of the dollar 
each, to which the law entitled them, a rousing treat 
of liquor from the Coroner; and to do away with 
the usage, Mr. John Dickerson accepted the office. 
A reformer before the temperance reformation, he 
succeeded in abolishing the graceless custom, though 
at the cost of incurring much displeasure. Yet his 
weight of character overcame the popular resent- 
ment, and he was re-elected to the office. 

It will be readily seen where James inherited many 
of his personal traits, and they were even more pro- 
nounced in the son than in the father. The humor 
that played over every subject, and the wit that 
often flashed like lightning to its core ; the social 
grace and geniality, the musical taste and talent, 
and more than all, the stern conscientiousness that 
refused to compromise with wrong, were in no small 
degree transmitted to James from his father. 

His maternal descent was equally reputable. The 



REMINISCENCES. 13 

father of his mother, Thomas Stokes, was born in 
London, England, in 1765, and "was born again," 
in the language of his diary, "in 1783." Though 
occupying a position in London which gave him 
access to the highest and most fashionable circles, 
his chief pleasures were in communion with God 
and his people, and his chief activity devoted to the 
cause of the Redeemer. He was associated with 
Robert Raikes in originating that characteristic insti- 
tution of the modern church, the Sunday school ; 
under the ministrations of Rowland Hill, to whose 
congregation he attached himself, he was among the 
first to feel the throbbings of the missionary spirit 
then awaking in England ; did much by his corre- 
spondence to promote and develop it ; aided in the 
formation of the London Missionary Society, and 
was one of the last to leave the deck of the first 
missionary ship, " The Duff," that in September, 
1796, bore twenty-nine missionaries to Tahiti. In 
1798 he left England for New York; was baptized 
in 1807 into the Baptist Church, by Rev. Charles 
Lahatt, and when, under the then young and elo- 
quent preacher, Archibald Maclay, the Mulberry 
Street Church was organized, he became a deacon 
in that church, which office he held till death. Nor 
had he left behind him his glowing missionary zeal. 
He was present at the formation of the Baptist 
General Convention for Missions in Philadelphia, in 
1814 ; was for a few years its treasurer, and a fast 
friend of it till his death. His religious working 
was equally efficient outside of his own denomina- 
tion. He was in 1816 one of the founders of the 



14 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

American Bible Society ; was associated with Will- 
iam Ladd, David L. Dodge, and Anson G. Phelps, 
in founding the New York Peace Society, and in 
1825 aided in organizing the American Tract Society, 
of whose Managing Board and Committee on Dis- 
tribution he was an active member. He died a tri- 
umphant Christian death in October, 1832. His 
grandson, the subject of this memoir, prepared a few 
years ago a small " In Memoriam " volume, a worthy 
and beautiful tribute to a life of unobtrusive, but 
active piety, and most efficient and varied service to 
the cause of Christ. 

He left a large family of children, of whom several 
are still living in New York as prominent and reput- 
able merchants. One of them, James Stokes, mar- 
ried the daughter of Anson G. Phelps, and has long 
been a member of the well-known firm of Phelps, 
Dodge & Co. The mother of James, Eliza Ann, 
was born in Sing Sing, N. Y., October 19, 1798. 
She was married to Mr. Dickerson in 1818, their 
mutual interest having been awakened while she 
was attending upon him when received in illness, 
as a transient guest, under the hospitable roof of 
her father. She was in every way an admirable 
woman, of sterling sense and consistent piety, and 
some of her son James' mental and moral qualities 
exhibited a fine blending of the maternal with the 
paternal characteristics. The marriage was a happy 
one, but of brief duration, she dying a death of 
Christian peace and triumph, February 11, 1830, at 
the early age of thirty-two. Her husband survived 
her six years, and having married again an excellent 



BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 15 

and loving young woman, by whom he left two 
children, died in May, 1836, after a short illness, at 
the early age of forty-four. 

The fruit of the first union was six children. 
They were Anne Eliza, who afterwards became Mrs. 
Gilbert Colgate ; Thomas, who for twenty years has 
lived in Chicago, a member of (Dr. Everts') the 
First Baptist Church, having been converted a short 
time before James, under the preaching of Elder 
Jacob Knapp, in New York ; Sarah Grace, who mar- 
ried Samuel B. VanDusen, of Philadelphia, but who 
for many years has lived in New York City ; John, 
who was brought up in New York, and has been a 
successful merchant there for many years ; James, 
who at the time of his mother's death was about 
four years old ; and an infant that survived its 
mother but a short time. 

The death of the mother partially divided the 
family for a time, Anne Eliza, Grace, and John being 
brought to the home of their grand-parents in New 
York, while Thomas and James remained with their 
father in Philadelphia. The second marriage of 
their father reunited them for a season. But the 
death of their father, in 1836, again broke up the 
household. Many friends and relatives from New 
York attended the funeral, among them the uncle, 
Mr. James Stokes, from whom he was named, and 
who for many years in after life generously aided 
and befriended him. He brought James, now nearly 
eleven years old, with him to New York. James 
stayed a short time with his grandmother, and in the 
Autumn was sent with his brother John to New- 



16 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

burgh on the Hudson, to attend the Academy in 
that place. Here they remained three years, board- 
ing with Mr. James, a Baptist clergyman, and spend- 
ing their vacations with their grandmother in New 
York, or with their elder sister, Mrs. Gilbert Col- 
gate. As their father had left but a small property, 
their uncles thought it best to invest it, letting them 
know nothing of it until they should come of age ; 
they themselves, therefore, paid the bills for the 
boys' board and instruction, while their grandmother 
furnished their clothing. 

During all these early years James was known 
as a bright, kind-hearted, and truthful boy. His 
word could be thoroughly depended upon, and any 
plausible excuse for wrong-doing manufactured by 
his companions was instantly stripped of its dis- 
guise, and lost, discountenanced, and like false- 
hood showed, as his honest tongue responded to 
the paternal appeal, " Come, Jimmie, get up into 
my lap, and tell me just how it was." The child 
was father of the man, and rarely has this prophetic 
quality of childhood been clearer in its utterance, 
or more sure in its fulfillment. 



CHAPTER II. 

EARLY LIFE IN NEW YORK, AND CONVERSION, 

On James' return from Newburgh, his uncles, 
practical business men, who had achieved their 
own fortunes, conceived it best for him to enter 
upon some employment that should prepare him 
for the business life to which they considered him 
destined. He was about thirteen years of age, and 
though small of stature, was active, intelligent, and 
full of common sense and practical philosophy. 
His uncles found a position for him in the dry-goods 
store of a Mr. Thomas Pattison, on the corner of 
Division Street and the Bowery. Mr. Pattison, 
though a Moravian, did not carry any Moravian 
scruples into his business, and was hard and stern 
toward his clerks, from whom he exacted abundant 
labor for very scanty pay. It was the duty of little 
Jimmie, slight and delicate in frame, to take care 
of the fires, bring up the coal through a scuttle in 
the floor from the cellar, take down, in the raw, 
cold mornings, the heavy shutters from the win- 
dows, keep the store in order, run on errands, wait 
on customers, and, in fact, do all the drudgery that 
generally falls to the lot of the youngest and smallest 
boy in the store. He received for the first year of 
this service nothing but his board. He slept, during 

1* (17) 



18 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

this time, on the counter, his bed consisting of pieces 
of cloth, without any pillow; yet he slept the sweet 
sleep of youth and labor. He took his meals at 
Mr. Pattisoirs, near by, being sent round after the 
return of the master and the older clerks, to make 
the best of what was left. It was not long, how- 
ever, before Mrs. Pattison discovered the loveliness 
of the character to whose physical wants she was 
ministering, and nice little "tid-bits" thoughtfully 
put away for him, and a warm plate-full just from 
the oven, often evinced her kindness, and called 
forth his gratitude. As his work was not harder, 
nor his pay less than that of some of the other boys, 
he made no complaint. 

James, during this time, rarely saw his relatives 
except on the Sabbath, when, dressed in his Sunday 
suit, provided for him by his grandmother, he met 
them with bright looks and a happy heart. Slender 
and delicate in health he had pride and pluck that 
would not admit an inferiority in capacity of work 
to stouter boys. Though often sickly, and living 
in conscious orphanage, he was rarely sad or des- 
ponding. His buoyancy of spirit was almost unfail- 
ing ; he was grateful for having something to do ; 
he had lost his parents too early to allow him fully 
to estimate their worth, or the absence of parental 
care; "and," he added, when questioned on the 
matter, " after my conversion I was happy nearly 
all the time." Thus his friends could scarcely 
suspect that he was not comfortably situated in 
the store, and receiving just the discipline which 
he needed; as he told them nothing of his hard- 



EARLY LIFE IN NEW YORK. 19 

ships, they could not, of course, relieve them. He 
often, indeed, received little presents from them of 
articles of clothing, and sometimes his grandmother, 
or one of his uncles would put a silver half dollar 
into his hands, a much larger sum thirty-five years 
ago than now. Still his supply of money was of the 
scantiest. The tempting doughnuts displayed in the 
shop windows, sold, with their accompanying cup 
of coffee, for five cents, he often turned reluctantly 
away from, though beheld with hungry eyes and 
an empty stomach ; as his sensitive and fastidious 
appetite refused much of the food that was indulged 
in by heartier boys, and a substantial boiled dinner, 
or one of pork and beans, but mocked his hunger 
with the mere name of a repast. 

His later habit of prayer was already formed and 
strictly observed. His closet was a corner of the 
coal-cellar, and he watched anxiously for the coal- 
scuttle to be empty, that he might go and have " a 
little talk with God,*' and ask Him to keep him 
patient under continual provocation ; honest amidst 
the business untruthfulness constantly practiced 
around him; and successful in pleasing customers 
and earning his living. The frequent scoldings of 
his master made him apprehensive that he was 
duller than ordinary boys, and would never amount 
to any thing ; and this apprehension led him to con- 
stant prayer for help from above. Many of his 
friends have heard from him his " parasol story." 
Two ladies one day came into the store looking for 
parasols, and Jimmie did his best to display the 
merits of his articles. The ladies hesitated about 



20 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

taking them, as they wanted two not only similar in 
style, but identical in shade. James saw Mr. Patti- 
son watching him from the rear of the store, and 
knew well the sharp words that awaited him in case 
he failed to make a sale. He had seen parasols at a 
store near by from the same factory, and told the 
ladies that if they would select one, he would try 
to match it, and take them to their homes. They 
acquiesced and gave him their address. When they 
had gone, Mr. Pattison said gruffly, " Well, a big 
sale you made ; you will be a money-making mer- 
chant.'* Jimmie replied that he thought he would 
sell them yet. " Very likely ! " was the half-sneer- 
ing response; " don't let the grass grow under your 
feet while you are gone." Thus encouraged, he 
hastened away, found a parasol of the desired shade, 
and started for the home of the ladies. On his way 
the prayer was constantly on his lips, ,; Lord help 
me, do help me to sell the parasols!" And the 
boy always believed that the Lord helped him, and 
it may well be questioned whether his faith was 
not the deeper philosophy, and whether it is not 
right and wise to believe that the God who suf- 
fers no sparrow to fall unnoticed to the ground, 
did help an honest-hearted praying boy to sell his 
parasols. At all events he sold them, and when 
he modestly handed the money to his employer 
hoping for some commendatory words, the gruff 
reply was, "Well, you sold them, did you? 'Tis a 
wonder." Such were the daily, almost hourly, trials 
of the tender-hearted little fellow in his faithful 
and almost unintermitted labors. The store was 



REMINISCENCES. 21 

kept open until eight o'clock, and on Saturday- 
evenings until after ten o'clock; then he used to 
mend his clothes, and sometimes even his shoes, 
as best he could ; and he used laughingly to 
recount the bitter disappointment with which he 
once discovered that he had spent a long evening 
in mending his much-worn pantaloons with a blue 
patch, instead of a black one, making them even 
more unsightly than before. During the Winter 
he needed many articles of clothing, but cheerfully 
went on his way with the few that he possessed. 
Why the brave little boy did not let his friends 
know the necessities which they would have hastened 
to relieve, it is not difficult to imagine. His buoyant 
spirit made light of these merely outward evils,, 
and his sensitive nature shrank from unduly tax- 
ing the generosity which, he felt, had already 
made him so largely their debtor. Meantime his 
uniformly neat appearance and cheerful manner 
prevented them from suspecting the straits to 
which he was driven. 

His strength of principle at this early time is 
illustrated by the following incident. It was more 
customary then than now to send goods to houses 
for inspection, and James was once sent with two 
pieces of silk to a house on one of the avenues. 
In talking with its inmates, he noticed their singu- 
lar deportment, yet in the innocence of his guileless 
youth failed to understand it. But it suddenly 
occurred to him that this must be a disreputable 
house, such as he had heard the larger boys speak 
of, and further reflection confirmed his suspicion. 



22 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

The women ordered a certain number of yards from 
each piece, and he was glad to get out of the house 
with his parcel. On returning with the order, and 
being directed to measure off the goods and take 
them home, he replied, ;t I will measure them off, 
Mr. Pattison, but I can not go to that house again." 
" What is the reason you can not?" rejoined Mr. 
Pattison. " Because, sir, it is a wicked house, and 
I will not go there again." " The very reason why I 
sent you, Jimmie ; you are the only boy in the store 
whom I can trust to go there/' But he would not 
go, and — " Thank the dear Lord*' — added the nar- 
rator, "it is the only time that I ever saw the inside 
of such a place." Few boys of thirteen would have 
had the principle and courage to obey their con- 
sciences in refusing to be employed on such an 
errand; still fewer, perhaps, would have had any 
conscience about it. 

Shut out largely from the sports and amuse- 
ments familiar to most boys of his position in life, 
and doomed through all the seasons to nearly unre- 
mitted drudgery, he yet had one regularly recur- 
ring season of purest recreation and unalloyed enjoy- 
ment. The morning cry of the newsboys with their 
Sunday papers, breaking on his dreaming ear, sig- 
naled the return of God's day of Sabbath rest, and 
he sprang from his counter in the glad anticipation 
of his twelve hours' intermission from anxious toil, 
and twelve hours' revelling in the bliss of an earthly 
heaven. The peal of the church- going bells that 
followed was responded to with joj'ful eagerness, 
and the thrill of delight which they awakened 



REMINISCENCES. 23 

vibrated through all his after experience. The 
"sweet evening bells" of the poet awakened no 
such sacred enthusiasm as did in future Sabbaths 
that morning melody that recalled to him those 
oases of peace and joy amidst the dreary solitudes 
of the great city. Nine o'clock found him in the Sab- 
bath-school, at the Tabernacle, where W. W. Everts, 
then a young man, was the pastor. He loved to 
study the Bible, and to join in singing the Songs of 
Zion. He then attended the preaching service, 
went in the afternoon again to the Sabbath-school, 
staying to the prayer-meeting which followed, and, 
after dining with some of his relatives, returned 
joyfully to the evening service, with its introduc- 
tory prayer-meeting. He retired happy in the recol- 
lections of the day, grateful for the privileges he 
was favored with, and strengthened, morally at 
least, if not physically, for the struggles of another 
week. Possibly the religious service was overdone ; 
yet the revelation of the boy's nature was a beauti- 
ful one, and excessive religious devotion is, perhaps, 
in our day too rare to demand severe criticism. We 
need scarcely set up a warning finger-post at this 
point of James' example. 

All this time he was any thing but cantingly, or 
even austerely, or even professedly, pious. He 
overflowed with merriment; jokes and comicalities, 
funny stories and witty rhymes were ever on his 
lips, and everything innocent and beautiful drew 
forth his heartiest sympathy. Yet he seemed 
in his nature religious ; he gravitated naturally 
to the true and the right, and exerted uncon- 



24 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

sciously en all around him a beneficent influence. 
The clerks in the store, while they spoke lightly 
of his devotion to the church and the Sabbath- 
school, yet loved him and respected his princi- 
ples. One of them, twice his age, having become 
sick and been obliged to leave the store, sent 
for James to his home in New Jersey, that he 
might talk with him on religion. James obeyed the 
summons, read the Scriptures, prayed with and 
instructed him, and had the happiness afterwards 
of learning that he, a lad of fourteen, had been 
the means of leading his former associate to the 
Savior. This was after his conversion, yet he would 
never have been thus sent for but for the confi- 
dence and affection which his previous conduct had 
inspired. 



CHAPTER III. 



CONVERSION. 



To the reader of the last chapter it will appear 
that James scarcely needed conversion, and the 
heading of this will seem like a misnomer. Perhaps 
it is so. Some natures are so finely constituted that 
it is hard to tell where the religion of nature blends 
with the religion of grace; where the " almost " 
becomes the "quite;" where the garment of 
unwonted human loveliness is touched into spiritual 
beauty by the hand of the Divine Adorner. Such 
a transformation every believer has undergone ; a 
John as well as a Paul. The realms of natural and 
of gracious excellence seem conterminous, yet an 
unfathomable gulf lies between them, and across it 
leads only the " living way that has been sprinkled 
with the blood of Jesus." Whether our young hero 
had as vet actuallv made this great transition, or 
whether his seeming Christian virtues were but the 
fruits of a happily constituted nature, it is fortu- 
nately not necessary for us to decide. Enough that 
James, with all his spontaneous piety, did not yet 
regard himself as a Christian ; and he looked to the 
second year of his stay in the store as the eventful 
period in which he experienced the great change 
that made him a child of God and an heir of Heaven. 
2 r 25 ) 



26 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

Of one who was before so near the kingdom of 
heaven, it might have been confidently predicted 
that this blessed consummation was not distant. The 
happy event took place in connection with the 
preaching of Rev. Jacob Knapp, who in the Winter 
of 1839 and 1840, held a series of meetings with the 
First Baptist Church in Brooklyn. These meetings 
were largely attended from New York, and among 
others James frequently attended them along with 
the family of Deacon William Colgate. The meet- 
ings were subsequently renewed in the New York 
Tabernacle, and attended by a powerful revival. 
James was among the subjects of the revival, and, 
uniting himself with the church, began not, possibly, 
a more really, but a more avowedly Christian life ; 
certainly a life that never henceforth faltered in its 
devotion to the cause of Christ. But we let him 
tell his own story in the following letter, written 
from Wilmington in 1862, to Samuel Colgate : 

Wilmixgtox, March 5, 1862. 

My Dear Friexd : How many pleasant and how 
many tender associations did the well-known chirography 
on the envelope of your letter of the 28th ult. awaken! 
Starting at the old office in Dutch Street, where I was 
wont for awhile to "copy" your letters and mail them, 
I soon ran back to old John Street, where the forms of 
the loved dead and those of the loved living mingled 
again in all the social and religious joys of twenty years 
gone by, and I thought of Ann Eliza, and Gilbert, of 
William the brother, and that sweet little sister, the 
youngest of all. But these seemed to have faded upon 



CONVERSION 27 

my memory to some extent. Not so your mother and 
sister Sarah — two of the warmest and truest friends I 
ever had, at a time when I needed them, oh! how greatly. 
Your father seemed ever to me a companion of about 
my own age, so simple-hearted, so genial and so com- 
panionable was he. He used always to take my arm 
when w^e walked, and with a sort of cosy way which 
seemed to say, i; just ^Ye two;" and off we would trudge, 
he seemingly enjoying my talk, and jokes and stories, 
as much as I enjoyed his. These three, mother, father, 
and Sarah, live in my memory well defined and em- 
balmed, I think, forever. My happiest hours for years 
together, w r ere in their company. You have doubtless 
forgotten that in 1840 — almost a quarter of a century 
ago — a little boy was found upon his knees, in the old 
Mulberry Street lecture-room, after most of the audience 
had retired, sobbing as though his heart would break, 
and trying to offer one little prayer, " God be merciful 
to me a sinner." Your father asked old Mr. AVhitte- 
more whose boy it was, and he did not know; and as you 
bent down to give a w^ord of comfort and advice, you 
asked the convicted little sinner his name, and he 
sobbed out ;; James Dickerson." The next day the old 
Bowery rang with a new song, 

" Oh, how happy are they 
Who their Savior obey! " 

By the grace of God I shall sing of those davs in 
heaven! It was indeed the beginning of "a new life" 
to me — being "born again." So, Sammie, you see it is 
rather dangerous to touch any chord in mv heart that 

C3 J mi 

vibrates back to that time, and there are few of my past 
associations that do not. And now let me answer vour 
letter before I forget it ! * * * Make mv kindest 



28 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

regards to Mrs. Colgate, and tell her you all owe me a 
visit, and I shall be very glad to have you " pay up," 
for we are needing the visits just now. 

Affectionately Yours, 

James S. Dickerson. 

About two months elapsed between his conversion 
and his baptism, some of the deacons feeling that in 
the case of one so young the genuineness of his 
change should be attested by the most decisive evi- 
dence. During this time he labored zealously in the 
Sunday-school, spoke in the prayer-meetings, talked 
to his companions in the store of his new hopes, and 
invited them to the meetings with him, setting, 
meantime, to all about him an example of truth and 
purity. His employer sometimes taunted him with 
the uselessness of this new-found piety and devotion 
to the church, and intimated that it was spoiling 
him for business. Yet when James gave utterance 
to the already conceived thought that he might one 
day become a preacher, he changed his tone, and 
reprobated the idea of his exchanging his present 
business for one for which he had no capacity. In 
truth, he thoroughly appreciated his excellent quali- 
ties, relied on him beyond any other of his clerks, 
reposed in him the amplest confidence, and, when 
James finally left for Hamilton, offered him large 
inducements to remain. When James left, he had 
to employ two persons in the place which he had 
occupied. 

James had, however, yet some severe trials with 
him. On the evening on which he was to appear 



CONVERSION. 29 

before the church, he asked Mr. P. to request one 
of the clerks to close the shutters and attend to the 
matters that generally devolved on him, as he was 
obliged to go to meeting. Mr. Pattison replied : 
" No, I will not ; and I should like to know what 
obliges you to go to meeting." James said that he 
was to come before the church to relate his religious 
experience, and the church officers all expected him. 
"Very well,'' was the rejoinder. " you can not go. 
You have had too much religion all winter, and it is 
just spoiling you ; and I may as well put a stop to it 
now as at any time. You may put up the shutters 
and stay in the store." " I am sorry to disobey 3'ou, 
sir," replied James, " but it is my duty to go to the 
meeting, and I shall go." " You can go then," said 
Mr. Pattison; "I shall not want you any longer." 
" Very well," was the reply; but after a moment he 
asked: "Shall I come back and spend the night 
here ? " " Yes, but you may go in the morning, and 
I will find some one in your place who is less full of 
prayers and hymn-singing, and thinks a little about 
business." It was a somewhat dark outlook as 
James turned from the store, after committing him- 
self in trustful love to the Master, who would not 
forsake him, and risking Him to soften the heart of 
his employer, or open to him a place elsewhere. To 
throw himself in dependence on his relatives, who 
might, perhaps, censure his course, was scarcely to 
be thought of. He went to the meeting, chiefly 
anxious whether the church would receive him, and 
be satisfied that he loved the Savior. The question 
of his worldly fortunes sank into small importance 



30 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

to the young pilgrim beside the question of his ad- 
mission into that palace Beautiful, whose inmates 
were the children of the Great King. Smiles and 
tears have alternated with each other as he has told, 
with all his touching pathos, the> story of this 
critical event of his life. 

But one so true to his Savior could not be deserted 
by Him. In the church all were satisfied as to the 
genuineness of his religious change, while stand- 
ing — on account of the shortness of his stature — 
on one of the benches, he told in his straightforward 
and childlike way how he had found and loved the 
Savior, and longed to preach His gospel. The trem- 
bling with which he waited at the door for the result 
of the discussion on his case, was changed to ecstatic 
joy as he received the announcement that his ex- 
perience was satisfactory, and that through baptism 
he was to enter the portals of God's earthly house. 
The baptism that followed was the symbol of a 
genuine profession which he never regretted, never 
dishonored, never ceased to adorn. 

James went back to the store thanking the Lord 
for His goodness in turning the hearts of the people 
towards him, and trusting that a path would be 
opened before him in the morning. When, the 
next day, he had taken down the shutters and put 
things in their usual order, he expected, on the 
entrance of Mr. Pattison, some hard, unsympathiz- 
ing words and a hurried good-bye. But something 
had softened the merchant's heart, and he said: "I 
told you you could not stay, Jimmie ; but, as you 
are going off to that school by-and-by, you may as 



CONVERSION. 31 

well finish your time with me." The result was that 
he remained with Mr. Pattison until he left for 
Hamilton, and was henceforth treated by him 
with more consideration and kindness, perhaps from 
the fact that he himself had gone, first from curiosity 
to hear Elder Knapp, and afterward had become an 
occasional interested listener. 

James' mind was now fixed upon the ministry, 
although his wishes were as yet sanctioned by no 
formal action from the church. He studied the 
Bible at all spare moments, and thought out sermons 
as well as he could, which, he said, " was not very 
well." He tried his hand on the " glorious " text, 
"For God so loved the world," etc.; but, unable to 
discuss and amplify it, he finally said, "Well, that 
is the whole of it ; God did love the world, and 
proved it by sending his Son, and I don't know what 
more can be said." Still, as he reflected that min- 
isters can and do preach from the text, he fell into 
doubts whether Mr. Pattison's incredulity as to his 
preaching capacity was not right after all. He did 
not then know that such early barrenness is a very 
common precursor of later fertility. Meantime, he 
maintained his conviction that God had called him 
to preach, and cherished a secret hope that the way 
to an education would yet be opened to him. To 
the questions of his Sabbath-school teachers and his 
relatives whether he felt as strongly the assurance 
of his call, he replied confidently that he did. 
Among his relatives, many of them not religious, 
there was much skepticism regarding his fitness to 
preach. Some scarcely thought the Lord would call 



32 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

boys who had no money to pay for their education ; 
some had the common notion that the desire to go 
to college was little else than a desire to escape 
work. No doubt, his smallness of stature 
favored the general skepticism. It was difficult to 
believe that a frame so slight and delicate was 
united with a caliber that would be adequate to 
so weighty an office. When asked if he really be- 
lieved that he was going to be " a smart man," and 
what were his reasons for the belief, he scarcely 
knew what to say. He did not consider himself 
specially gifted, had been for some time out of 
school, and yet would frankly confess that he 
thought he had some qualifications for the minis- 
try, and felt assured that Grod had called him to it. 
This was his only solid standing -ground. Nearly 
all things outward conspired to dissuade him from 
his purpose ; some thinking his health not strong 
enough ; many having no confidence in his " boyish 
enthusiasm," and few giving him an encouraging 
word. His grandmother did not fully concur in her 
views with James; she deemed, with her sons, his 
undertaking a rash one, yet her excellent sense 
and Christian feeling made her cautious in her 
opposition, and gave great weight to her opinions. 
One Sabbath when the matter was discussed 
at the dinner-table, she said : " We must not 
judge harshly of James and his enthusiasm about 
preaching. If God has called him, He will 
open the path before him ; and he may do more 
for his Master as a plain preacher than if he 
became a wealthy merchant. Money and worldly 



CONVERSION. 33 

success are not all that is worth living for ; a much 
higher ambition is to live above self, for the world 
and for Christ." After this the opposition to him 
was less constant and bitter ; and his uncles, think- 
ing he might be actuated by higher motives than 
they had credited him with, looked on his course 
with greater kindliness. 

In relating before the church his experience at 
conversion, James had distinctly avowed his already 
kindled desire to preach the gospel ; and even then 
some had received favorably and treasured up his 
words. Another formal hearing before the church, 
in regard to his desire to preach, resulted in disarm- 
ing all opposition, and securing to him the approval 
of his brethren in his chosen course, while all felt 
moved by his love and zeal and his determined man- 
ner as he declared himself " bound to preach the 
gospel." He went now joyfully forward in his 
work, while awaiting an opportunity to begin his 
studies. From many friends he met with interest 
and encouraging words. Miss Sarah Colgate, an 
invalid daughter of Deacon William Colgate, whom 
multitudes in New York remember for her many 
virtues and charities (though she moved only as 
wheeled about in her chair, and being lifted to and 
from her carriage when she went to church), and 
who befriended many young candidates for the 
ministry, regarded James with especial interest, and 
won his gratitude by many acts of kindness shown 
to him through long years. This year, also, he re- 
ceived for his services in the store fifty dollars in 
money, besides his board, probably the first money 



34 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

that he ever earned. From this sum he bought 
nearly all his clothes, and gave liberally to missions 
and to all objects for which collections were taken 
up in the church and Sabbath-school. He also 
bought at a second-hand store a few books to aid 
his religious studies. With their help he sketched 
plans of sermons, and preached them in the cellar 
to imaginary audiences. He would tell an amusing 
incident of one of these preaching services. Having 
amplified on the several points of his discourse, and 
proceeding with great animation to his closing 

loo o 

appeal, looking up # as if to a collection of uncon- 
verted young, people in the galleries, his ear caught 
a smothered titter, and then a roar of laughter, from 
a company of boys in an adjoining cellar. The 
curtain instantly dropped upon the scene, and the 
abashed young Demosthenes vanished through the 
scuttle with magical rapidity. 



CHAPTER IV. 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 



James now made his preparations to go to 
Madison University, the Baptist institution for liter- 
ary and theological culture, at Hamilton, Madison 
County, New York, to pursue his studies for the 
ministry. From the estate of his father he would 
receive about fifty dollars a year, which would 
pay for his board (in the public hall), while he 
hoped to earn something, as many students did, 
towards his tuition, clothing, books, and other neces- 
sary expenses. Of his fifty dollars received from 
Mr. Pattison he had little left, especially as Mr. P. 
took several dollars from the sum to buy new panes 
of glass, to replace the broken ones of which none 
of the clerks knew any thing, and for which James, 
who had care of the shutters, was held responsible. 
At their parting, however, Mr. Pattison told him 
that he had been very serviceable to him, that they 
all loved him, and that, if he did not like study as 
well as he expected, he would be welcomed back to 
a position in the store. 

His good-bye to Mrs. Pattison, when it came, was 
much more pathetic. The "dear old soul," as he 
used to call her, cried and sobbed, telling him that 
she loved him like one of her own children, and 

35 



36 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

praying the Lord to bless and prosper him in all his 
ways. 

Mr. Pattison, in conversation with some of James' 
uncles, had told them that he perhaps had better 
go ; he was too honest to become a successful mer- 
chant, and might, religious as he was, become a good 
preacher. It is hard for the uninitiated mind to 
conceive a man thus unblushin^lv stigmatizing both 
himself and his profession. James' older brother, 
Thomas, who had been converted a little earlier 
than himself, though, with others, he doubted the 
wisdom of James' course, yet, unwilling to deter 
him from what he deemed his duty, wrote the fol- 
lowing letter to Mr. J. Edmunds, then financial a^ent 
of Madison University : 

New York, August 27, 1843. 

Dear Brother Edicuxds : TVhen you were in the 
city last, I had some conversation with you in reference 
to my brother James' entering upon a course of studies 
at Hamilton. His engagement with his present em- 
ployer being nearly terminated, I am led now to write 
you on the subject. I believe I informed you that he 
had about nine hundred dollars in property, and at 
interest, which brin^ him in yearly about fifty dollars. 
He feels willing to spend all he has, if need be, when it 
comes into his possession, so as to gain an education. 
What course had he better pursue ? He will, no doubt, 
come recommended by the Baptist Tabernacle Church, 
as they have had his case in hand. Any information 
communicated from you will be thankfully received. 
Yours very respectfully, 

Thomas Stokes Dickersox. 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 37 

Some weeks after, Mr. Thomas Dickerson received 
the following reply : 

Hamilton, September 21, 1842. 

Dear Brother Dickersox : I have just returned 
from the West, and found yours of August 27th on my 
table. I can only speak as an individual member of the 
board of managers, but I have no doubt that if your 
brother comes on and can pay his board bills, which will 
amount to but fifty dollars a year, he will be waited on 
for his tuition. We must be personally acquainted with 
him, however, before we can pledge ourselves to any 
thing. My advice, then, is, if he is determined on pre- 
paring for the ministry, and the church approve of it, 
that he muster twenty-five dollars to pay the expenses 
of the first term, and come on and test his mind to see 
if he can study. That decided in the affirmative, he 
will find a way peaceably, or make one forcibly. 

Yours sincerely, 

J. Edmuxds. 

A certain amount of money was then raised, 
James J clothes were put in order, and he was reacty 
to start. If it seems strange that his friends stood 
somewhat aloof from his plans, we must remember 
that, some time having elapsed since he had been at 
school, it was by no means certain that he would be 
successful in his study at Hamilton, and still less 
certain that he would ultimately be a successful 
preacher ; that to his uncles, practical business men, 
not allied with him in denominational sympathy, his 
quitting the sure path of business for a doubtful and 
difficult course, leading to a doubtful issue, seemed 
rash and unwise : and we can not wonder that they 



38 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, and 
gave him the alternative of being aided by them in 
entering on a mercantile career, or struggling as best 
he might in his pursuit of an education. They did 
not, and could not, know the moral pluck or the 
mental caliber of the youth, and few, in his genial, 
sunny, boyish manner, could read or divine the real 
strength and manliness of his soul. But persist he 
would and did. With his hand in his Heavenly 
Father's, he entered on the path that lay in cloud 
before him, and never faltered. A slight but char- 
acteristic incident attended his setting out. His 
valise was packed with his extra suit of clothes, and 
his railway ticket bought for Hamilton. With one 
bill in his purse, which was to pay for some books 
when he reached his destination, and which he did 
not like to break, and having no change to pay for 
getting his trunk to the boat, he went into the 
street, shoveled in a load of potatoes for some one, 
and used the quarter of a dollar which he received 
in getting the requisite conveyance for his little 
baggage. So narrow was the margin of his pecuniary 
resources : but trusting in the Heavenly guidance, 
with the double buoyancy of youthful and Christian 
hope, he set forth with no misgivings as to his 
future. 

When he reached the beautiful village, and went 
up the hill to the buildings where in after years he 
spent so many happy hours, his heart swelled with 
joy and gratitude. The autumnal season is especially 
beautiful in Hamilton. The landscape lay in 4:he 
mild and delicious beaut}" of early Autumn. The 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 39 

hills that girdled the sleeping valley, with their 
foliage just tinged by the September frosts, and the 
cool, fresh, invigorating air, seemed like inspiration. 
During his whole life, as each succeeding Autumn 
returned, it sent his memory back to those bright 
fall days at Hamilton. The companion of his jour- 
ney was John Colgate ; and James went to his room 
with a heart beating high with glad hopes of the 
future, yet trembling lest he should fail of the de- 
sired success in his studies. He laid down his valise, 
and, kneeling, thanked the Lord for bringing him in 
safety to the place so long and -eagerly anticipated, 
and implored His help and guidance in all the work 
before him. He was seventeen years of age, but 
looked much younger. John Colgate was his only 
acquaintance, and amidst the throng of students he 
felt a stranger among strangers. Still, whatever his 
surroundings, his heart was in the sunshine. Amidst 
the darkest troubles he was at once grateful and 
hopeful. He was sensitively alive to every allevia- 
tion of the present, and caught with youthful faith 
every promise of the future. And especially the 
more he was beset with outward trials, the more 
constantly did he betake himself to the One Sure 
Friend and Helper, and, rejoicing in the Lord, en- 
counter cheerfully the perplexities which were 
thrown across his pathway. He whistled and sang 
as, in the morning, he unpacked his valise, and went 
for his list of books and instruction as to his duties. 
Among the lessons assigned to him was one in the 
Introduction to the Latin Grammar. Opening the 
book, he began to commit to memory the first page. 



40 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

It was hard, slow work. His mind, so long unac- 
customed to study, could not easily get back into 
the old track. After trying unsuccessfully to com- 
mit to memory the two first pages, he closed the 
book in discouragement, and condemned himself for 
having, dunce as he was, dreamed of qualifying him- 
self for the ministry. But he returned to the attack, 
and when, going the next morning with trembling 
to his class, he found that he had his lesson better 
than any other member of it, he felt a glad revival 
of his courage. His experience mirrors a thousand 
others' experiences both in its despondency and its 
joy. The following is his first letter to his brother 
in New York : 

Hamilton, October 13, 1842. 

Dear Brother : According to promise, I embrace 
the first opportunity of informing you of my safe arrival 
at the Institution on Tuesday night at half-past eleven, 
p.m. John Colgate and I tumbled into bed about mid- 
night, and did not get out again until seven o'clock in 
the morning, when we immediately began the process 
of fixing our room, which, by-the-by, takes in a very 
extensive amount of sweeping, dusting, rubbing, and 
washing. We were glad enough when the merry bell 
of the Institution rang out its call to breakfast. When 
I arrived at the Hall (which is the name given to the 
dining-room), I found some hundred students eating 
away, as papa used to say, as though they had holes in 
their heads. To look at them, you would take them for 
a rollicking set of customers ; but I tell you there are 
hearts among them beating high with love to God and 
to their fellow men. After breakfast we resumed our 
work, and by night had our room looking like a palace. 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 41 

Last evening we went to the village of Hamilton, and 
bought a broom, oil, and a few small articles, after which 
we went into the prayer-meeting. After the meeting, 
we went up the hill, had worship in our own room, and 
retired. This morning, for the first time, we assembled 
in the chapel. Professor Maginnis read the Bible and a 
hymn, and Dr. Nathaniel Kendrick offered prayer, and 
afterwards made a short speech to us. The lessons for 
the different classes were then given out, and we were 
dismissed. To-morrow I have a recitation at half-past 
six, a.m. John and myself have adopted four o'clock as 
our hour for rising, and the alarm clock has been let into 
the secret, and performs his part admirably. 

Then he gives an account of his expenses, tells 
his brother the titles of the books he shall need, 
being able to purchase most of them at second-hand, 
" all in good order, neatly covered with black cam- 
bric." Then he says : " I shall be compelled to buy 
a standing-desk, which will cost me from two to 
three dollars, as the older students advise me to have 
one as necessary to my health." He adds : 

Please put in that guard-chain which is in that little 
heart-box, as I want something to put keys upon; and 
think of those drawers, and a flannel shirt, and that large 
overcoat which I forgot ; and I shall want a pair of 
thick, heavy boots for Winter. I am well, contented, 
and happy; but I feel there is more need of prayer now 
than before. When the boat pushed off from Xew 
York, I could not help offering up an inward prayer to 
God, for helping me through so many difficulties ; and 
when for the first time I entered the walls of the Insti- 
tution, my heart found its way to the Author of all good. 
Now, my brother, I know you have a great interest in 
a* 



42 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

my welfare ; but do I have your prayers? I hope so. 
Give my love to all my friends, and thank those who 
helped me to arrange my affairs in getting off. Give 
my love to Grace and John and all the rest of the rela- 
tives. Let me hear soon about those books; and pray 
for Your brother, 

James Stokes Dickeksox. 

With his rapidly enlarging acquaintance " little 
Jimmie Dick," as he was dubbed by the boys, became 
a "universal favorite — a good singer, a capital mimic, 
full of fun and frolic, yet never indulging in person- 
alities or coarseness. His appearance was that of a 
perfect gentleman. His neat, trim figure, clustering 
hair, bright, sparkling eye, joyous expression, and 
genial manner, w r ere constantly remarked and com- 
mented on. A new life was opened to him. To be 
with congenial young men, pursuing the same 
studies, and many having the same hope and pur- 
pose with him of preaching the gospel, w^as a per- 
petual joy. His round of college duty, and his round 
of religious duty, were alike delightful, and dis- 
charged with equal fidelity. His class studies were 
prosecuted with ease and success, while the meetings 
for prayer, both in the college and in the town, were 
faithfully attended, and his old vocation of Sabbath- 
school teacher was speedily resumed. And Hamil- 
ton itself, in its quiet, its seclusion, its picturesque 
beauty, furnishing a delightful contrast to the din 
and turbulence of the great city, in the heart of 
which he had been living, seemed almost to lap him 
in an earthly Paradise, and spread before him "a 
perpetual feast of nectared sweets." He loved 



KESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 43 

Nature, as a nature like his must, with an unweary- 
ing affection ; and he often carried his books into 
the charming groves near by, or wandered alone, or 
in congenial and glad companionship, over the pic- 
turesque hill-sides of that lovely spot, and feasted 
eye and heart on the scenes of varied beauty which 
were everywhere spread before him. Meantime, if 
his voice was the merriest, his laugh the heartiest, 
his speech the wittiest, his stories the drollest, and 
his fun the most rollicking in all the joyous circle, 
none but the veriest ascetics and bigots of devotion 
ever felt any painful or even uncongenial contrast 
with the unaffected piety which was quick to dis- 
play itself in seasons of devotion. Undoubtedly, 
very strongly contrasted qualities formed in him a 
rare and extraordinary union. His delicate and 
sensitive nature responded with instant thrill, like 
an iEolian harp, to every varying breath of impulse 
and influence, so that transitions which are difficult 
and unnatural in most men were easy and natural in 
him. He joined the Adelphian Society, one of the 
literary fraternities of the Institution, became one 
of its active members, a frequent writer of sparkling 
pieces, both in prose and verse, for its paper, and in 
time one of its best presiding officers and leaders. 

As to his finances, it is scarcely justice to him not 
to make a few characteristic statements. He went 
into debt somewhat during his first year, and felt 
much perplexity as to how he should meet the 
expenses of the next. He had practiced the most 
rigid economy, and done all in his power to earn 
money for his incidental expenses. He took all the 



44 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

care of the rooms, study and bedroom, which he and 
his room-mate occupied, and sawed, split, and carried 
in all the wood for their fire. He did the same, also, 
for other students, receiving for it a small weekly 
compensation. His books he kept so nicely that, 
when he had done with them, he could sell them to 
those in the lower classes for two-thirds of the 
price, and use the avails in purchasing needed new 
ones. The ladies of the Tabernacle Church sent 
boxes of clothing annually for Hamilton students, 
especially through the efficient influence of Mrs. 
William Colgate and her daughter Sarah. In these 
boxes there was often a package for James, and for 
these, and many more especial and sometimes costly 
kindnesses, they earned his life-long gratitude. 
It can scarcely be amiss here to insert a brief notice 
of these excellent women, extracted from Dr. Geo. 
W. Eaton's " Historical Discourses" on " Devoted 
Women," published in the Jubilee Volume of 
Madison University. 

" I can not refrain from naming in this connection 
Mrs. Deacon Colgate. She, like her husband, took 
the institution into her heart, and was in labors 
abundant, to supply its wants and the necessities of 
the students. She was evermore busying herself 
about the Hamilton Institution, gathering funds, 
endowing scholarships, furnishing rooms, and in 
other ways contributing efficiently for its benefit. 
The Female Society in the city of New York, aux- 
iliary to the Education Society, was for years, through 
her agency and that of others, a bountiful source of 
help to the Institution. Simple justice to the facts 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 45 

of history require, along with the mention of the 
mother's name, that of her daughter Sarah, who was, 
in full sympathy and kindred work, a true yoke- 
fellow with the indefatigable mother, and when the 
latter's illness laid her aside, went on bravely with 
work for Hamilton. She was a remarkable instance 
in which physical infirmity, that would have seemed 
to justify an entire cessation from bodily labor, was 
not allowed to interfere with ceaseless activities for 
the advancement of benevolent objects in the family, 
church, and society. In all these she was a ; burning 
and a shining light.' So deep was her interest in 
the Institution, that she came to visit it, to attend 
its exercises, and inspect its rooms and general 
condition for herself, notwithstanding the peculiar 
inconveniences to her of travel. She was greatly 
endeared to many of the students who had enjoyed 
her counsel and encouragement and good offices in 
her father's house. She richly deserves special 
mention among the sisters who effectually served 
the cause of ministerial education at Hamilton." 

But even with such aids, James' finances were 
often of the narrowest. An occasional present of a 
few dollars from friends or relatives, supplied some 
pressing wants, but the times were not few when, 
while the wants kept on, the money utterly fell 
short. On one occasion he was surprised to find at 
the postoffice a letter from an unconjecturable 
source, charged with a postage of eighteen pence, 
precisely the entire amount of his pecuniary store. 
It was hard to meet so enticing a friend (letters 
were rare luxuries with him then) in such an 



46 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

unwonted spot. It was very hard to deprive his 
pocket of its last jingle of coin, and he hesitated 
much between the pleasure he coveted, and the 
price he had got to pay for it. The social element 
conquered, as with him it infallibly would. The 
letter was paid for, opened, and displayed to his 
rewarded and wondering vision what made him 
richer than Croesus, at least richer than ten times 
the sum would have done in later years — a five 
dollar note. His fancy swam with the thought of 
the luxuries this sum was going to bring him. His 
worn coat re-tailored, his winter boots re-soled, a 
new neck-tie to make himself presentable in church ; 
a hundred little things — in short, if the well-to-do 
people knew how often the five dollars which they 
don't know what to do with would clear up the 
whole dark horizon of some struggling child of want 
and worth, how often would the charity be forth- 
coming which is now thoughtlessly withheld ! To 
cite an instance in point, from the experience of our 
youthful student. When he was in New York on 
vacation, the thoughtfulness of Miss Sarah Colgate, 
in asking him about his teeth (which displayed no 
external defect), and sending him to the dentist to 
incur at her expense a large bill, secured to him 
perfect soundness in these essential organs almost to 
the end of his life. In the above case, the only 
words accompanying the note were, "From one who 
feels a great interest in you/' Who was the donor 
he never knew. The cup of cold water, given in 
secret, will yet have its open reward. 

James had sometimes from his New York friends, 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 47 

as will be seen later, lessons on economy which 
seemed rather superfluous, and might remind one of 
the reply of young Sheridan to his father, when he 
threatened to cut him off with a shilling : " Yes, 
father, but where is the shilling to come from?" 
So when tantalized (not to say, tauntalized) with 
the exhortation to practice economy, he might be 
tempted to retort, " Yes, but where is the economy 
to come from?" 

It is, perhaps, proper to add to these financial 
details some account of the shifts he was driven to 
in regard to his wardrobe. If the features it pre- 
sents lack somewhat in dignity, they will conduce 
at least to the truthfulness of our portraiture. 
During the six years of his college life he never had 
a new suit of clothes, until just before his gradu- 
ation. Beside the occasional parcels in the box 
from the Tabernacle, his uncles not unfrequently 
gave him their partly worn garments, in which, 
being well made and of good material, he generally 
contrived to appear respectably dressed. He some- 
times laughed with them subsequently, over the 
expedients to which he resorted in adjusting his 
transferred habiliments. One of his uncles being 
rather tall, and the other quite short, he would 
unite the long vest of the one with the short 
trowsers of the other, and vice vei*sa, and, with the 
aid of India rubber suspenders, haul up or pull 
down, as the case required. At one time, receiving 
a handsome coat with very long sleeves, lined with 
quilted brown silk, he at first purposed to get the 
sleeves shortened at the tailor's, but afterwards 



48 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

decided to turn the quilted silk back, let it look 
like a handsome cuff, and quietly pass it off as the 
latest New York style — which he did. The decep- 
tion, if there was any, was in the act. At one time, 
for several months, he wore his room-mate's every- 
day suit on Sunday, and was thankful for the privi- 
lege. All this may well be supposed any thing but 
grateful to the flesh of a young man, sensitive, 
gentlemanly, social in tastes and habits, a favorite 
in the best classes. Yet he submitted to it without 
repining for his Master's sake, received every kind- 
ness with tenderest gratitude, and yet, while thus 
humble with a Christian's humility, he never dis- 
paraged himself or compromised his dignity, or 
failed to appear the polished gentleman that he 
intrinsically was. 

One more point maybe mentioned here: With 
his slender frame his stomach was delicate and 
fastidious, and boarding at a public table (whose 
cost was but a dollar a week), it may be supposed 
that he often sat down to unpalatable meals, from 
which he as often rose hungry (or worse). He 
thus laid the foundations of a dyspepsia which fol- 
lowed him through many years, and to which not 
improbably the local difficulties that for years kept 
him out of the ministry, might be largely traced. 
James' trials in regard to food had indeed com- 
menced earlier ; but for that there was no public 
responsibility. It would not be beneath the man- 
agers of a public boarding-house for students to see 
to it that the supplies are nutritious, healthful, well 
cooked, and abundant. Both the physical and the 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 49 

mental nourishment go, in nearly equal proportions, 
to the forming of the future thinker and actor in 
the world's affairs. 

In entering on his educational course, James had 
to commence at the bottom. He spent two years in 
the preparatory department, and then passed through 
the regular four years* collegiate course. He entered 
in the Fall of 1842, and was graduated in 1848, with 
the highest honors of his class, the valedictory 
oration being assigned to him by the Faculty, but 
declined by him when he found that it was going to 
provoke ill feeling among some members of the class. 
His theological studies would have occupied two 
years longer, and in fact he returned and spent part 
of the year 1848-9 in them, but an affection of the 
throat, which seized him before he left college, now 
became so severe as to compel him to abandon all 
hope of preaching, and with this to abandon also 
his further course of theological study. His college 
studies, amidst all the drawbacks we have referred 
to, were pursued with uniform delight and success. 
His vacations were spent in New York, among his 
friends, who always cordially welcomed him to their 
homes and hospitalities. One of his vacations he 
spent in the office of his brother Thomas, who was 
absent in Philadelphia visiting their newly married 
sister, Mrs. Van Dusen. James had been also 
invited, but he preferred to forego his own enjoy- 
ments in favor of his brother Thomas, and during a 
long and hot summer he attended faithfully to his 
business while he enjoyed himself in the city of 
" Brotherly Love." The brotherly love of James 



50 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

cheerfully submitted to the sacrifice, especially in 
view of the many kindnesses which his brother had 
rendered to him. 

But few of James' letters are preserved, especially 
of the later portion of his college residence. From 
such earlier ones as we have we take a few extracts 
(chiefly of 18-13). They will shed light upon, and 
receive light from, the preceding details. His 
brother Thomas, we may premise, being considerably 
older than himself, thought it sometimes his province 
to give the younger scion of the house some needed 
advice, over which they both made themselves merry 
in later years. In replying to James' first letter, of 
Oct. 22, 1812, he says: 

* * * * " I hope our correspondence may be a 
continued one, and prove for mutual improvement and 
edification. I am not fond of writing for the sake of 
writing, and filling up a sheet with gossip of the day, or 
such news as in itself is of no value. Mine to you shall 
be a series of letters of advice, by which I hope to pro- 
duce some good in the mind of the reader. My letters 
will be regularly numbered, and the next, No. 2, will 
soon be sent." 

Then he gives some general advice in regard to 
the purchase of books, and adds : 

You speak of a standing desk. I have thought con- 
siderably about it, and am inclined to think it an article 
you had better not get. You say you can purchase it 
for three dollars, which I allow is very cheap, but I think 
I could have a shelf made of a proper height, to study 
by, which would not cost me one dollar. I am the last 
person to refuse you any amount you may need, but I 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 51 

want you to commence right. 1 want to impress upon 
your mind the necessity of practicing the most rigid 
economy in your situation; of getting only what is 
absolutely necessary. Recollect that seventeen standing 
desks will more them jKiy your board. * * * I shall 
think of you often. Many eyes will be upon you. 
Apply yourself closely to study. Live near to God in 
prayer, and may success attend your path. 
Your brother, 

T. Stokes Dickersox. 

The reply to this letter, dated November 7, 1842, 
is the only other letter we have of this year, from 
which we quote a few sentences : 

* * * I was much pleased with your intended plan 
of writing me a series of letters, and I hope with you 
that they may prove beneficial to us both ; but, I do 
hope they may contain some profitable news, as well as 
advice and counsel. I think I have great cause to be 
thankful to the Giver of all good, for kind relatives and 
friends, who are always ready to impart good advice. 
As for my feelings I can say I am happy and content. 
I enjoy pretty good health and spirits, and as for the last I 
sometimes think they run almost too high; but I hope that 
when I get well settled I shall be more sober and watch- 
ful. * * * The suit of clothes that Uncle C. sent, 
fits me nicely. I shall soon need my winter boots, and 
if you have an old pair of slippers you do not use, I could 
find use for them. As regards the standing desk, you 
must exercise your own judgment about it ; but I feel 
the need of something of that kind every day. I have 
but little spare time. I rise at four o'clock, and retire 
at nine o'clock, have a recitation about daylight. I want 
some good steel pens and letter paper, which you can 



52 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

put in with the other things when you send them, for I 
must soon write to some of my uncles, Grace, John, grand- 
ma and aunties. I do not know where to commence. 
Give my love to them all ; tell them to write ; it does 
not take me as long to read a letter as to write one. 
* * * What shall I tell the faculty in relation to my 
means? Remember me continually at the throne of 
grace, that I may be devoted to the service of my Mas- 
ter, and that I may walk humbly and close with God. 
Your affectionate brother, James. 

January 25, 1843. 
Dear Brother Thomas: As a favorable opportunity 
presents itself, I embrace it in addressing a letter to my 
brother. Day after day T have asked the post-master, 
Is there not a letter for me? but have received a dis- 
couraging reply. The answer of my letter to Grace 
which I expected to receive immediately, has not arrived; 
and the letters of "advice" promised by you, and joy- 
fully anticipated by me, have not as yet reached me. 
But this is enough repining; I shall yet hoioe to see you 
a man of letters. I get along very well as regards my 
studies, the Greek text is rather difficult, but the remain- 
der of my studies comparatively easy. But " one thing 
is needful," for which I long and pray daily, a closer 
walk and communion with Jesus. I realize that how- 
ever my mind may be stored with useful knowledge, if 
I have not genuine piety and ardent love to God and 
my fellow men, " it profiteth me nothing." The revival 
which has been in progress in the village for some time 
past, has revived in my soul the wish to be engaged in 
the labor of the gospel ministry. I now feel a greater 
desire than ever before to share in the work of the 
world's conversion. I have attended a number of meet- 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 53 

ings at the village, some of which have been very inter- 
esting. About thirty have been converted, backsliders 
have been reclaimed, Christians awakened, pastor 
aroused and encouraged, all moving on in harmony and 
success, and the Lord is still working among them. I 
have but little care on my mind now, but oh, my lean- 
ness in the sight of the Lord! Pray for us (John Col- 
gate and myself) that we may grow in grace, and that 
our attainments may be greater and higher. 

I am very thankful for those shirts, drawers, etc., you 
sent me by Joseph, and the twelve dollars in cash. The 
shirts were plenty large. I have purchased a pair of 
thick, heavy boots, and a history; paid my taxes and a 
number of incidental expenses, and have four dollars 
remaining. I have not mentioned a small desk that I 
have bought. It is about two feet high, and placed 
upon my table answers for a standing desk. It cost me 
one dollar. I have been at Elder Knapp's several 
times ; was there the evening previous to his starting 
for "Washington. * * * Give my best love to Uncle 
James, Aunt C, and family. I desire very much to 
receive a letter from them. Also my love to grandma, 
my other uncles and cousins, and friends in the city. 
Give my love to Grace and John. Tell John he must 
write me a o-ood Ions; letter. (Since commencing this 
I have received one from Grace, dated Philadelphia.) 
I hope in your next you will give me some account of 
the transactions at the Tabernacle, and how things are 
proceeding at the new church. And tell me how you 
enjoy yourself and what are your prospects in regard to 
mercantile life. Fill a good, large sheet foolscap, with 
anything profitable that will tend to awaken my mind. 
After a long three months of study, a little wearied 
with the monotony of college life, to receive a letter 



54 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 

from home, filled with news, seasoned with good advice, 
what a treat! * * * I need nothing just now but a 
few handkerchiefs, which I can do without until the 
Spring vacation, which is about ten weeks distant, and 
if I do not go to the city, the others can bring them up 
with them. Professor Conant arrived here safely. The 
buildings on the north and west side were illuminated, 
as he arrived at ten p. M. ; a committee was appointed to 
bring him from the village. He came in a large sleigh, 
accompanied by Professor Eaton. The students formed 
one long procession to receive him, many of them with 
torches, and each " tipping his beaver " as he passed and 
the professor returning it. 

Your brother in double bonds, 

J. S. D. 

March 20, 1843. 

Dear Brother Thomas : Your painful silence has 
awakened in my heart disappointment and anxiety; dis- 
appointment at not receiving promised letters from you, 
and anxiety as to the cause of your silence; whether 
sickness, business, or whether you had entirely forgot- 
ten that you had a little brother pent up by the tremen- 
dous snow-drifts, upon the note bleak hills of Hamilton. 
Date of your last letter to me, November 23, 1842. Xo 
comment is necessary. Since that time I have written 
you, but have received no answer. I find it difficult to 
write often, and when I do write, and receive no answer, 
it is rather discourao;ino\ * * * I have been very 
happy lately, and enjoy more of the presence of Jesus, 
and often hold sweet communion with my Savior at the 
mercy seat. Privileges of a high religious nature abound 
at this institution, and there is no barrier (but a cold 
heart) which need keep us from a corresponding height 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 55 

of religious attainment. There is a great improvement 
in the state of piety, here. Prayer is more frequent, and 
more full of faith. Meetings are multiplying; feeling is 
deepening; and the work of the Lord progressing. Sev- 
eral are anxious about their salvation, and two have 
recently found the Lord. The last two meetings of the 
" Monthly Concert of Prayer,'* have been very interest- 
ing. At the last one the students were addressed for a 
few moments by Brother Bailey, a Baptist minister, and 
an agent, I believe, for the cause of missions. He was 
rather an ordinary looking genius, and we did not expect 
to hear anything interesting from him, but he had spoken 
but a few moments when the eyes of all were fixed upon 
him, and silence reigned in the chapel. As he advanced 
the interest increased, and still deepened as he endeav- 
ored to arouse the same spirit in the hearts of his hearers 
that had burned in the bosoms of many, who had 
but recently occupied the seats before him, and 
were now in other lands, laboring for the heathen. 
He was fired with his subject, and before he sat down 
the smothered feelings of those who heard him broke 
out in sobs, and tears trickled down the cheeks of many, 
who, it is to be hoped, may yet plant the cross in the 
midst of a heathen world, and preach Christ crucified to 
those whose altars are now dedicated to the worship of 
" unknown Gods." * * * The Spring vacation com- 
mences on the nineteenth of next month, continuing 
four weeks. I would like to know the wish of my 
friends as to what I shall do at that time, as of course, I 
shall be governed bv them. If I stav I am obliged to 
board in the town, as the Hall is closed during vacation, 
but I can board for one dollar and a half or two dollars 
a week. I suppose sister Grace has returned from Phil- 
adelphia. Give my love to her, and remind her of her 



56 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

promise to write me the remainder of her adventures in 
the city of " brotherly love." I long to hear from John- 
ny; what is he about? Give my love to him, and tell 
him I shall hope to receive a letter from him soon. 
* * * My money has all been spent, and I owe a 
little here. My clothes I can make last till vacation, 
when, if I should not come down, they could be sent by 
chum. * * * 

April 4, 1843. 

My Dear Brother: As yet 1 have received no intel- 
ligence as to what I shall do during the coming vacation. 
I expected a letter by Dr. Kendrick, but received none, 
and feel anxious, not knowing how to act. John Col- 
gate thinks I had better prepare to come, as you will 
expect me as a matter of course, but I shall remain here 
unless I hear from you to the contrary. * * * I hear 
rather strange news from New York in regard to you 
and Gracy ; both over head and heels in love. Be care- 
ful. " Look before you leap." If you would know my 
authority, it came in a letter to me from the field of 
action. * * * We had an excellent monthly concert 
yesterday. There is glorious news coming in from every 
part of our dear country; thousands upon thousands 
have been converted. Many of our brethren here, have 
broken away from their studies, and gone out to aid in 
preaching the great gospel of salvation, and others ex- 
pect to be about the same good work during vacation. 
How I wish I had the ability to preach! I would gladly 
" go and do likewise." There is a brother here who 
expects to preach next vacation to some good country 
church, and says he will take me with him, and that if I 
can not preach, I can sing and pray. * * * 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 57 

April 18, 1843. 

Dear Brother: As I have received no intelligence 
from the city authorizing me to come home, I shall stay 
here and board in the village. The postman has been 
tired out with my frequent calls, and when he sees me 
coming, before I have time to ask for a letter, he sings 
out in a husky voice, " Nothing for you," and I trot off 
with a lip quivering with sorrow and disappointment. 
I have been looking for a letter so long, to know whether 
I shall pay you a visit or not, that I really feel down- 
hearted. * * * I owe something for altering pants, 
something in the village for fixing a coat, and one or 
two other debts, in all about three dollars and fifty cents. 

My class will soon be examined by a committee from 
the Faculty in Latin, Greek, and History, and also 
Classical Literature and Geography. 

Since penning the above T have received a good long 
letter from you, and was very well satisfied with its 
contents. I feel a little anxious in regard to your going 
into business on your " own hook." But if you pursue 
a lawful business, lawfully, I think there is little danger. 
Ask the blessing of God upon every transaction. Move 
cautiously, deal generously, mind your own business, 
and avoid law-suits as you would a counterfeit V, and 
there can be no doubt but that you will be prospered. 
The Bible says, " He that giveth to the poor lendeth to 
the Lord." If you would be rich in every sense of the 
word, give to the cause of Christ. Look all around you, 
and those who have given the most to the jDOor, or to the 
church, have received in payment an hundred fold, and 
are the richest men. I hope and pray for your success. 
Pray that I may enjoy the presence of God. 
Your affectionate brother, 

James S. DickersoXo 



58 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

Hamilton, May 27, 1843. 

* * * I received a letter from Gracy during vacation, 
telling- me she would get anv thing for me I needed, if 
practicable. You can show her the list I sent by John 
Colgate if you choose. Should you send any thing, 
place them in a box on board of one of the canal boats, 
as that appears to be the safest way. When you ship 
them, please write me; otherwise they might lie in 
the store-house without my knowledge. Write the name 
of the captain and the boat. I need a vest and a pair 
of pants very much. My vest is very much worn and 
mended, and I have borrowed of John and Alvah on 
extra occasions. I bought a pair of shoes in the village, 
and had them charged -in the name of John Colgate. 
I spent my vacation very pleasantly, and was glad to 
see chum when he returned, and all the students appeared 
very dear to me when they came back to the Institution. 
I am now well under weigh with my studies. I have 
commenced Bullion's Latin Grammar and Caesar, which 
try me considerably, and shall soon begin Xenophon and 
Sophocles' Greek Grammar. Do not forget to send up 
my Leghorn hat that I left with you. I want the one 
with the high crown and narrow brim, colored, and not 
the one with the broad brim, unless you can send 
both. And now I would like to ask a few questions, 
which you will, of course, answer. How do you enjoy 
religion? This is a question of much importance and 
solemnity. 

" Religion is the chief concern 
Of mortals here below." 

How are you proceeding with business? " He that driveth 
not his business, his business will drive him." When is 
the next letter of "advice" coming? Acts xx, 35—= 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 59 

" So laboring, ye ought to support the weak." Remem- 
ber that I always feel grateful for advice, and perhaps 
did you know the good which might result from the 
imparting of advice and counsel, you would not be so 
backward. * * * I feel more and more the importance 
of living holier and aiming higher, and, if I should 
approach the field of action, and it be found that my 
talents are ordinary, if I only have the spirit of the living 
God and the love of Jesus in my soul, and good to my 
fellows and the honor and glory of God be my motive 
to action, I know that I shall prosper. Pray that I may 
be enabled to bring myself, and all that I have and am, 
as a sacrifice to the altar of Gcd, consecrating all to 
Him and His cause. 

Your affectionate brother, 

James Stokes Dickersox. 

A severe epidemic now broke out among the 
students, called the "black tongue fever,*' and 
James was among its victims. His illness, however, 
was unusually short, owing, as he believed, to his 
employing homoeopathic remedies. One of the lead- 
ing physicians of the place had recently become a 
homoeopathist. James had become much interested 
in the discussions which had arisen, and became so 
far a convert to the new practice that he now 
employed Dr. Douglass, its newly declared champion. 
The medicines, faithfully administered, worked like 
a charm ; and James was speedily on his feet, while 
many were prostrated for weeks, and some disabled 
for an entire term. He remained through life an 
enthusiastic advocate of that system, and, when his 
way was hedged up as a preacher, studied it care- 



60 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

fully as a possible profession. He writes to his 
brother : 

* * * Since last I wrote you, I have been very sick 
as also my chum, John. He was taken down with a 
high fever last Saturday, and I on Sunday. I went for 
the doctor last Sunday afternoon to come up and see 
John, and when he came he found me also " lying and 
sick of a fever." * * * I am much better, although 
still weak. No tidings yet from you in relation to my 
things. Do write soon and let me know all about them, 
even though they may not be sent at alL As you write 
so very seldom, I take it for granted that you attend 
closely to your business. All this is well, but still one 
thing recollect, you have a duty to perform to a little 
brother at Hamilton, beset with temptations of nameless 
variety, grappling with -many difficulties, forming a 
character, a character for life, yea, for eternity. 

Hamilton, August 2, 1843. 

Dear Brother Thomas : Again, after so long a 
time, I place myself in a writing posture to address you 
a few lines. Of course you are aware that the term 
closes in two weeks, and therefore we have no time to 
lose in making necessary preparations. You are also 
aware from the statements I have sent vou that I have 
no money wherewith to defray the expenses of the 
journey home; and, when I arrive in New York, I know 
not which way to direct my steps, or what place to call 
my home. I hope you will write soon and inform me in 
relation to this affair. I have entirely recovered from 
the effects of the influenza, and now feel as well as 
before. The influenza has been very prevalent here, 
and few have been so fortunate as to escape it, thirty or 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 61 

forty students being sick at one time. Ten months 
have nearly spent their length since I left New York, 
and the dearest friends I have. I hope the time has 
flown as happily with you as with me. In a few days I 
shall be examined in all the studies of the year, and I 
look forward with no little satisfaction, and perhaps 
some pride, to the title of Higher Academician, and, 
after nine months more of study, to that of Freshman. 
As you, too, have been to college, you can realize some- 
thing of the many pleasant emotions that are aroused in 
the breast of every student at the mention of the title, 
Freshman. But I hope God will ever keep me from 
those motives that actuate the ambitious student, one 
who strives to make advancement in knowledge merely 
from selfish motives. No, while I study the laws of 
science, may I not forget the laws of God; while I pore 
over books of philosophy, may I never forget the Book 
of Books, the Bible. " Get wisdom, and with all thy 
gettings get understanding." O, may I always remem- 
ber and obey the injunction of Him who said, "Learn 
of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart." As I have 
told you the state of my physical health, I must say 
someting in relation to the spiritual. I have not 
enjoyed as much of the presence of Jesus this term as I 
had hoped. For the last month I have thought very 
much about home. Perhaps when reading or writing I 
would stop, and before I would recollect myself T would 
have spent some time in thinking about home. But I 
hope soon to be there, to see my friends and be with 
them, and my brethren and sisters in Christ too. How 
rejoiced I shall be to see them again, and meet them 
within the sacred walls of the Tabernacle! May the 
time hasten on ! This home-thinking has had a ten- 
dency to draw off my attention from serious things, and 



62 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

then again the thought of being among my friends, and 
my brethren, with the eyes of many upon me, has 
stimulated me to greater exertion, that my walk and 
conversation before them might be such as becomes the 
follower of Christ, and the student for the ministry. 
And if I would walk well, I must walk in the Spirit. I 
know that I shall bear a part in your prayers. 

I have got along very well without the things that I 
sent for, as I received an umbrella, some stockings, 
bosoms, etc., from the box sent by the ladies at the 
Tabernacle last winter, but which did not arrive here 
until this term, being in a boat that was frozen in the 
canal. But Alvah Buckbee gave me a pair of trousers 
that were too small for him, and John Colgate has lent 
me other things that I have needed; so you see 1 have 
been well taken care of. I would like very much, 
Thomas, to have you come and spend the last week of 
this term here, and I know you would enjoy yourself. 

I suppose Gracy has returned from her Niagara trip, 
with the rest of the company. Give my love to them 
all, and to other friends and relations in the city. I 
hope you will succeed well in business. I have made 
your attention to business the imaginary excuse for 
your backwardness in writing to me. John Colgate 
expects his father and mother here at Commencement. 
How is my brother John, and what is he about? Has 
he made his usual trip to Newburgh this term? I sup- 
pose he is as wild as ever, and enjoys himself as much 
as ever. I wish him success and enjoyment, but above 
all I wish that his feet were off from those slippery 
places. I would rather see him in the ark of safety 
than, if death should come, struggling under the 
eternal weight of God's wrath. Have we done, and 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 63 

are ice doing our duty in respect to him? Should he be 
taken in death, as soon at the farthest he must be, are 
our skirts clean from blood? 

Your ever affectionate brother, 

James S. Dickersox. 

We might enlarge much upon his residence at 
Hamilton, a happy and eventful six years of his life. 
But what we have said has, perhaps, embraced the 
most prominent points, and we can only say further, 
in general, that, as a student, a Christian, and a 
man, in every relation, he bore with him constantly 
the confidence, the esteem, and the affection of all. 
We can not more fittingly close this imperfect sketch 
of his life at Hamilton than with the following por- 
traiture furnished by his classmate, the Rev. A. H. 
Burlingham, D.D., as just and truthful as it is dis- 
criminating and tender : 

New York, April 28, 1877. 

Dear Mrs. Dickerso:n t : My acquaintance with your 
late husband began in Hamilton in the Spring of 1843. 
He entered the Institution there in the Autumn before, 
and in the Autumn following* we became classmates, and 
remained such through a long- course of studv. I can 
not claim that I was more intimate with him than were 
others of our classmates, yet I may say that we knew 
each other_well, and were much together in our student 
days. As, during this period, he exhibited the same 
striking and noble traits of character as in after years — 
traits which will be elsewhere more appropriately dwelt 
upon in the memorial you are preparing — it would be 
out of place for me to attempt any exhaustive treatment 



64 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

of them in the few lines you have asked me to con- 
tribute, and which I tender as a service of love. 

In looking back to the student days of my friend, I 
think of him first, perhaps, as a genial, enjoyable com- 
panion. He had that flow and goodness of nature which 
made him agreeable. There was that indescribable 
something in his organization which drew people to him. 
There was no resisting the attraction of the cheery 
pleasantness and genial humor which he ever displayed. 
He was a universal favorite in the college. His associ- 
ations were not limited to his class, but he was sought 
alike by advanced men and by beginners among the gen- 
eral body of students. No one was better known or more 
beloved by the whole college brotherhood than was Mr. 
Dickerson. The peculiar elements essential to popu- 
larity inhered in his nature. He did not try to impress 
himself. His influence came without exertion; it was 
spontaneous and unconscious. He charmed by a mag- 
netic soul, and sweetly bound the men to him by his 
sympathies. Herein lay the secret of his marvelous 
power to fasten people to him. Xo meeting of his class 
was complete without him. To the general social life 
of the Institution his contributions were always large 
and welcome. His spirit was chivalrous. His sense of 
honor was intuitive, and therefore delicate. He knew 
the meaning of justice. Kindness and largeness of soul 
ever characterized him in his student relations. We all 
loved him for his good nature and full-heartedness. We 
all respected him for his manhood and for his fidelity to 
principle. There was that talismanic quality in his being 
which threw a spell around every one in his presence. 
That his companionship was a perpetual enjoyment the 
general judgment and experience of the men with him 
in college would affirm. 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 65 

Mr. Dickerson is also remembered vividly and grate- 
fully by his fellow students in Madison University 
because of his irrepressible humor and wit. Love of 
fun was a most marked element in his organism, and his 
student life can have no adequate portraiture unless this 
element be brought into prominence. His college 
friends would not recognize the likeness with this touch 
absent. He readily responded to the challenge of mirth 
in others, but as well, and perhaps better, enjoyed 
making others happy by the sallies of his own. He 
certainly possessed great power and was the master of 
great facilities for provoking merriment in others. This 
ability in him often rose to the rare fascination of 
genuine wit. The ludicrous side of things he saw 
quickly and keenly, and often portrayed them with 
consummate effect. In the class, in the public meetings 
of the college men, in the literary societies, before the 
professors, in the more retired but no less memorable 
gatherings of the few in rooms where innocent enjoy- 
ment crowned the hour, Mr. Dickerson, if the proprieties 
of the occasion allowed it, was not expected to open 
his mouth without throwing all within reach of his words 
into a state of mirth, to say the least. In this he always 
succeeded admirably well. There was a facetious vein 
in his beino\ a lauovh-witcherv which was contagious. 
Into the atmosphere which he created when this element 
was dominant and working, none could come without 
being made brighter and better. In hits, in repartee, in 
a story, he was notably happy. But he was too kind to 
be severe, too true a gentleman to wound, and too pure 
a Christian to be vulgar or coarse in his wit. 

While he was piquant, sometimes quaint, in his inter- 
course with students, successful in his take-offs, boiling 
over with proclivities to allowable mischief, he was ever 



66 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

the considerate gentleman, and the courteous and kind 
Christian in all his college associations. Underlying 
this pleasantry, this fascination coming from a mercurial 
touch and tone, which God so graciously gave him, Mr. 
Dickerson had an earnest, sturdy, strong nature. This 
was as apparent in his student days as in his perfected 
manhood. His convictions were ever serious, bravely 
pronounced, and stoutly defended. His life purpose 
when a student impressed the men of the college as 
beino^ well denned and thorouo*hlv honest. Whenever 
any thing decided and bold, especially if it were useful 
and needful, was to be done, he was never found want- 
ing. He was always among the foremost and most 
aggressive in projecting and executing measures for the 
benefit of his class, his literary society, and for the more 
public good of his college. No one could charge him 
with selfishness. In his ambitions, he was honorable; in 
his spirit and action, he was benevolent; in his connec- 
tion with classmates and students generally, he was 
generous and self- forgetful. Hold to his point he ever 
would. From maintaining what he considered right 
positions in cases ever arising in the college, he never 
shrank. He w T as tenacious of what he thought right 
and quickly inventive in expedients and arguments for 
defense and aggression. When thrown, he had the 
happy ability of striking upon his feet; for he was intel- 
lectually nimble, withy, rebounding. His vigor, his 
varied resources, and ready command of them; his 
fluency, aptness and strength of speech, made him pow- 
erful in the advocacy of any cause he espoused. If 
sometimes simply from generous impulse and enlisted 
sympathies he took a position, he was as fair and honest 
as he was strong in all attempts to carry his point. With 
the staunchest and most stalwart of his fellow students 



RESIDENCE AT HAMILTON. 67 

he did not hesitate to measure swords when he thought 
himself right, and when any suffering interest needed 
his help. He was heroic. He had in him, in extraor- 
dinary degree, that rare but needed thing we vulgarly 
call pluck. He did not propose to be defeated in any 
good work he undertook. In the execution of a cher- 
ished purpose, involving his own or the welfare of 
others, he was self-sacrificing and indomitable. He 
went on doing, daring, suffering, till he reached the goal 
he sought. The college life of my dear friend, though 
the retrosrject is had by looking over the multifarious 
work and teeming memories of over thirty years, looms 
up to me, and to his class, and all the men of the " Hill," 
as a grand life. It was earnest, true, purposeful. It 
was full of the glowing prophesies of which his signal 
life-career was the sublime fulfillment. As a scholar, 
Mr. Dickerson made creditable attainments in all the 
branches embraced in the curriculum of study. He 
graduated with honor to himself and to his "Alma 
Mater." While a student, he proved himself to be a 
thinker vigorous and inventive, a writer able and 
brilliant, a speaker eloquent and effective. 

In moral and religious character, Mr. Dickerson was 
(when at Hamilton) a young man of salient excellence. 
The morale of his character was striking. That it 
never suffered deterioration amidst the peculiar influences 
and temptations of college life, is the highest proof of its 
settledness and strength. In thought, in lano-uao-e, in 
conduct, during his entire course of education, he 
evinced the possession of a most refined moral sense, 
and the most unswerving moral principle. In respect to 
religion he did not fail of maintaining a character con- 
sistent with the most avowed profession. He was 
conscientious. He had genuine piety, but not a particle 



68 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

of cant. In class and general prayer-meetings, he was 
a ready and refreshing participant. In every way, 
viewed as a Christian, he was cheerful and helpful. 
With his nature he could not have been otherwise. 
Religion hallowed and toned his natural exuberance, so 
that he took on a type of Christian character which 
goes far to explain the secret of his great usefulness 
through life. 

Many of the class of '48 have passed away; some of 
us still are toilers in the vineyard; but none, living or 
dead, were more beloved and honored in their academic 
years than was our dear brother, the now sainted James 
S. Dickerson. Yours very truly 

A. H. BURLIXGHAM. 



CHAPTER V. 



LIFE IN NEW YORK. 



For some time previous to James' graduation, his 
throat was so seriously affected that he feared he 
should be unable to enter upon the work of preach- 
ing, even if the way were providentially opened. 
To his great sorrow his fears were realized. Not 
only did his physicians forbid his speaking in public 
at present, but some declared that he would never 
be able to preach. He went, therefore, into the 
office of Deacon Colgate, where he remained for two 
years, rendering, amidst a circle of loved and trusted 
friends, good and thoroughly appreciated service. 
During this time he became engaged to Miss Julia P. 
Spencer, the adopted daughter of Julius A. Spencer, 
of Utica, New York. He had met her at the house 
of a common friend, Mrs. J. Osgood Pierce, in Ham- 
ilton, where her beauty, her musical abilities, and 
her lovely character, had won his heart. Her 
parents were Episcopalians, and naturally opposed 
to their daughter's allying herself with a Baptist 
minister. Their personal opposition, indeed, disap- 
peared with an acquaintance ; yet his non-connection 
with " the Church" was still an insuperable obstacle 
to the union. The parents thus remaining inflexible, 
for nearly a year all correspondence was dropped 



70 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

between the lovers, who, however, were devotedly 
attached to each other. In this, as in all things, 
Mr. DickersoiVs course was straightforward and 
honorable. He kept up no concealed correspond- 
ence, and sought no clandestine meetings. He 
could trust this, as all other matters, to the Lord, 
with the assurance that if it was His will, they 
would, in His own time, realize their hopes and 
wishes. His faith was not disappointed. 

In 1850, Dr. M. B. Anderson, then a young pro- 
fessor in Waterville College, Maine, but who was 
driven from his post by an affection of the throat, 
somewhat similar to that which had compelled James 
to withhold himself from his chosen profession, 
came to New York for the purpose of purchasing in 
part, and taking the editorship of the New York 
Recorder. In conversation with Deacon Colgate 
regarding his plans and prospects, he one day asked 
the deacon if he could introduce him to some capa- 
ble and trustworthy young man who could become 
pint proprietor with him of the paper, and take the 
management of its business interests. The mind of 
the latter immediately recurred to James, who was 
at once sent for and introduced to Professor Ander- 
son. As the result of the interview they soon 
became partners in the enterprise, and amidst many 
trials and discouragements labored together for four 
years in conducting what speedily became one of the 
ablest religious journals in the land. The extraor- 
dinary ability of the then youthful editor — giving 
splendid promise of the capabilities which he has 
since exhibited in other fields — were admirably 



LIFE IN JSTEW YORK. 71 

seconded by the business tact and sagacity, the tire- 
less industry and the admirable judgment, of his still 
younger partner, so that the paper speedily lifted 
itself into a power recognized not only by the relig- 
ious body of which it was the immediate organ, but 
by the entire Christian public. To the special 
obstacles which the paper had to encounter it is 
unnecessary here to refer : it is enough to say that 
the two co-laborers working harmoniously and effi- 
ciently, each in his own sphere, were by their joint 
labors placing the paper on the basis of permanent 
usefulness and prosperity, when the call of its chief 
editor to another, and possibly more important posi- 
tion, as head of the Rochester University, terminated 
the relation which had existed so pleasantly between 
them. The following letter from Dr. Anderson, 
referring specially to this period, sheds its light also 
on Mr. Dickerson's general character : 

My Dear Mrs. Dickersox: My eyes are so weak 
that I am' unable to work at night; and, as the night is 
almost the only time which I can command, apart from 
my official duties, for this reason I shall not be able to 
do what you ask of me in connection with the memoir 
of your husband. Since I left New York, twenty years 
ago, I have met Mr. D. but seldom, and our paths of 
labor have been entirely apart from each other. Our 
connection in New York seems to me like an inade- 
quately remembered dream. 

I first met Mr. Dickerson in New York, in the Winter 
of 1849-50, at the time when we were negotiating the 
purchase of the New York Recorder, In the Spring of 
that year I removed to that city, and from that time until 



72 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

I went to Rochester we were intimately associated 
in business and labor. We were both without exper- 
ience — he in the business, and I in the editorial man- 
agement of a paper. As the older man, the serious 
responsibility of shaping the policy of the paper and 
preparing editorials, devolved upon me, while he attended 
to the finances of the establishment. Circumstances 
which I do not care to recall, made our position exceed- 
ingly difficult. Some feared, others hoped, for our 
failure; and our courage and powers of endurance were 
severely tried. I believe that each of us did the work 
ordinarily accomplished by two men. "We reduced our 
expenses to the lowest point, and entered with all our 
energies upon the task before us. In all our difficulties 
your husband was always hopeful and loyal. Until his 
marriage he resided with us, and he always threw around 
him an atmosphere of good humor and cheerfulness 
which made him the light of our home. 

In all our relations, I do not now recall the slightest 
want of harmony of feeling or action. He developed in 
the business the skill and tact which characterized him 
through his life. The experience in business, and the 
knowledge of men which he thus acquired, were doubt- 
less one source of his success in the pastoral relation in 
subsequent life. His unfailing kindness of nature, and 
his facility in seizing the humorous side of life, relieved 
him from much of the friction which often wears out less 
happily constituted natures, and left him the control of 
all his capacities for effective action. His quick sym- 
pathy with the joy or sorrow of others gave him influence 
over all with whom he came in contact, and made him 
then, what he always continued to be, a universal favor- 
ite, whether in business or social circles. While we 
were associated, his time and strength were absorbed in 



LIFE IN NEW YORK. 73 

the business department of the paper, and he wrote but 
little. His capacity as a writer and preacher was devel- 
oped subsequently to our acquaintance. 

His success as a preacher and an editor came to me 
in the light of a surprise, and gave proof of latent 
capacity whose existence I had hardly been aware of. 
I know of few men who have possessed faculties readily 
adapted to so great a variety of work. He seemed 
equally at home in every place which he occupied in his 
somewhat checkered career. He had in perfection the 
"practical" intellect, and this developed into what may 
be best designated as administrative power. I never 
heard your husband preach, and I can give no analysis 
of the elements of his success in the pulpit; but I can 
readily understand the causes of his success as a pastor. 
He seized the characters of men whom he met almost by 
instinct. His wide experience in business enabled him 
to appreciate the temptations and trials of an average 
congregation, and meet their religious wants in a man- 
ner of which few men are capable. He was strong where 
most men, whose training is that of the study alone, 
are weak. 

That knowledge of men, that round common sense 
which never can be obtained from books, is one 
of the strongest elements in the typical pastor. Ten 
men fail from want of the pastoral capacity and train- 
ing, where one fails as a preacher. The study of the 
mind and heart, which is necessary to make a good 
pastor, is the best preparation for writing a gospel ser- 
mon. I imagine that the sources from which your 
husband drew, the best elements of his pulpit power 
were the unwritten experiences of the plain men and 
women who form the bulk of every Christian congrega- 
tion. That combination of mental and moral traits 
4 



74 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

which made him the favorite in social circles, and the 
successful negotiator in business, gave him control over 
the minds of his congregation, and made him the natu- 
ral leader and organizer in all the work of his church. 
The great success of the Christian pastor is found not 
so much in what he does, himself, as in what he induces 
others to accomplish. These elements of mind in Mr. 
Dickerson were rendered effective, and received their 
direction and impulse, from a warm-hearted and unselfish 
devotion to the cause of Christ and the well-beino- of his 

o 

fellow men. This resulted in an earnest and cheerful 
piety which irradiated his whole nature and made all his 
capacities, natural and acquired, completely available 
for Christian labor. 

My intimate association with your husband is one of 
the memories of my life which I recall with sincere 
satisfaction. That the impressions which he left on 
others, in the various relations of his later life, were 
equally pleasant I have not a doubt. That the absorb- 
ing desire to do his duty bv serving God and his fellow- 
men, which he showed when young, continued to affect 
him through life is obvious to all who have watched his 
career in maturer years. How cheerful and self- 
sacrificing, how affectionate he was in private life, 
those only, who knew him intimately, can fully under 
stand. 

Regretting that I can not render you more efficient 
service in the memorial you are about to rear in 
honor of your husband, I am 

Yours very truly, 

M. B. Axdeesox. 

Rochester, April 28, 1STT. 

After a time James' wooing affairs, thanks to his 
excellent character and business fidelity, began to 



LIFE IN NEW YORK. 75 

prosper. Mr. Spencer, the father of the object of 
his attachment, meeting him occasionally in New 
York in company with Mr. Anderson and other 
leading Baptists ; seeing the important position that 
he was holding, and how thoroughly he commanded 
the confidence of his associates, found his objections 
to one who was outside of "the Church" gradually 
melting away, and at length entering his office made 
the welcome announcement that he was at liberty to 
resume his suspended intercourse with his daughter, 
adding that, he was increasingly assured of her genuine 
and deep affection for him. James* heart bounded 
with a lover's exultation at the permission thus 
accorded ; he lost no time in making a journey to 
Utica, and that he came back with a happier heart 
might well be believed by those who knew the thor- 
ough loveliness, both in person and character, of the 
lady to whom he was now affianced. About a year 
after (June 9, 1852) they were married. They took 
and fitted up pleasant rooms with a family in Brook- 
lyn, where they lived more than a year, and until 
after the birth of their first child, J. Spencer Dick- 
erson. They then removed to New York City, 
where Ada, their eldest daughter — through life a 
suffering yet patient invalid — was born. 

During Mr. Dickerson's connection with the 
Recorder, he not unfrequently went on tours of col- 
lection, and for the purpose of procuring new 
subscribers for the paper. In these excursions he 
sometimes walked hundreds of miles, stopping as 
occasion served, and finding often poor lodgings and 
very indifferent meals. He never, however, yielded to 



76 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

discouragement, maintained an unfailing buoyancy 
of spirit, and wrote letters so full of humorous and 
racy descriptions of his varied experiences, and 
repeated them orally on his return with such infinite 
zest and drollery, that the laborious and self-denying 
tour would seem to have been but the sportive frolic 
of a student's vacation. We mention this because 
it was a characteristic of his life. The shadow to 
him always had its sunshine ; every event turned 
out to his happily constituted vision its brighter 
aspect ; and what seemed an unmitigated evil was, by 
the alchemy of his jo}~ous nature, transmuted into a 
blessing. 

It may be descending a little below the dignity of 
our narrative, yet we can scarcely forbear giving an 
instance, furnished during his New York residence, 
and while he was connected with the paper, of that 
almost rollicking humor which was inwrought into 
his nature, and in a thousand innocent and merry 
ways was perpetually coming to the surface. Quick 
to discern the ludicrous, and gifted with great 
powers of mimicry, he of course almost always con- 
fined their exercise to the small inner circles in 
which he was thorouo;hlv known, and in no danger 
of being misunderstood. Xone can doubt that the 
temperament is a happy one, if not unduly indulged, 
and always controlled, as in his case it invariably 
was, by thorough kindness. On the occasion we 
allude to, he stepped a little out of his ordinary 
bounds, and made one of his brothers the subject of 
his fun-loving propensities. The incident under the 
name of "the ferry affair," has become one of the 



LIFE IX NEW YORK. 77 

stories of the family. His elder brother, Thomas, 
on whom he played the joke, and who lived near 
him in Williamsburgli, thus relates it : 

I had trouble with two Englishmen, c; Jones and 
Lacham," and James knew about it. One night, about 
ten o'clock, I was returning from Xew York, and, just 
as the boat was landing, the night dark, and the wind 
high, a man wrapped in a cloak and wearing a slouched 
hat, pressed through the crowd and addressing me, said: 
"Have you much acquaintance here? I have just 
arrived from Europe, and was directed to Williamsburgh, 
on Long Island, to find my friends, Jones and Lac-ham.*' 
His voice was on a high key, and his manner and tone 
quite imperative. I told him I knew the family. They 
lived on Grand street, about two miles away. He asked 
me if I would not go there with him. I told him * ; No, 
you can find it by my directions." He was noisy and 
demonstrative ; found fault with the customs of the 
country, and said that in England the people were more 
polite, etc. I concluded he was an English snob, with 
plenty of beer about him. I went with him to the 
corner and showed him his way. He kept his cloak 
about his face, and I was a little suspicious as to what he 
was, but did not suspect James. We parted. I hurried 
on toward home, and had not gone more than two blocks 
before he came switching* around the corner from an 
opposite direction, and. coming abruptly up to me, stood 
in my way in a threatening manner, saying*, " Sir. you 
have deceived me; I want you to go with me, and at 
once." He was dancing around me about ten feet off, 
making all kinds of gesticulations, and calling me a 
fraud at the top of his voice. I got angry, told him 
to clear out* and charged him with being; drunk; said 



78 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

I had nothing to do with him, etc. " Yes you have," he 

replied, " and I will make it hot for you. You have got 
my relatives, c Jones & Co.,' in your power, and I will 
fix you." He would not let me pass, but as I went 
toward him, determined to strike him down and get by, 
he jumped into the street, threw his cloak about him 
and showed fight. I thought it best to retreat, think- 
ing the man was a drunken lunatic. I ran, he 
after me. I made for my house, ran up the steps, 
locked the door quickly, and looking through the window 
blinds at the fellow on the sidewalk, got a glimpse of 
him that led me to believe for the first time that it 
might be James; but I was not certain about it, till he 
put on the cloak and cap, and imitated the voice of the 
Englishman, as he did on the ferrv-boat. 



CHAPTER VI. 

RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 

At the end of four years the transfer of Dr. 
Anderson to the presidency of the University of 
Rochester, dissolved their relation and made neces- 
sary the selling of the paper. Mr. Dickerson now 
engaged in the business of bookseller and publisher, 
and established himself in Broadway, New York. 
Here he continued for two years, when circum- 
stances requiring him to sell out, he became associ- 
ated in the same business with Sheldon, Blakeman 
& Co. In 1856 he was appointed secretary of the 
American Baptist Publication Society ; he accepted 
the appointment and removed to Philadelphia. 
After holding this office for four years, he became, 
in 1860, proprietor and editor of the Christian 
Chronicle of Philadelphia. During most of his life 
in Philadelphia he was a member of the Eleventh 
Baptist Church, of which Dr. D. B. Cheney was 
pastor. Dr. Cheney has kindly furnished an account 
of those years in which they so harmoniously worked 
together. 

Mrs. J. S. Dickersox — My dear Madam: You ask 
me to contribute a few reminiscences of your late 
lamented husband's life in Philadelphia for the memorial 

79 



80 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

volume soon to appear. To no similar service could I 
be called that would be more congenial to my own feel- 
ings, or to which my heart would respond with greater 
delight. And yet, after the lapse of so many years, I 
fear that I may be able to recall but little of interest to 
the general reader connected with that uneventful period 
of Dr. Dickerson's life. 

As an attached personal friend, and as the pastor of 
his sister's family in Philadelphia, he very naturally 
looked to me for information when the question of his 
removal to that city was first presented to him. The 
American Baptist Publication Society needed a deposit- 
ory agent who should have in charge the business inter- 
ests of the Society. Members of the board, myself and 
others, named Mr. Dickerson as the man of our choice 
for the place. News of this reached him in New York. 
Friends from Philadelphia called upon him, and in an 
unofficial way urged his favorable consideration of the 
subject, should it assume a definite form, as it gave 
promise of doing at an early day. At this stage of 
the proceedings Mr. Dickerson wrote me a long confi- 
dential letter of inquiry that now lies before me. It 
bears date June 11, 1856, and was written from the well- 
known book-store of Messrs. Sheldon, Blakeman & Co., 
of New York, with which he was then connected. After 
referring to the facts stated above, he wrote : " I sup- 
pose my friends, I mean my worldly business friends, 
would think me insane to talk or think of such a thing 
as accepting this appointment. But while my business 
prospects are bright and promise something for the 
future, I feel that I ought not to be satisfied with the 
amount of good I am accomplishing now. In the way 
in which business is now driven, especially in New York, 
a young man is almost necessarily so absorbed as to 



RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 81 

unfit him for present usefulness, and his only hope, if he 
really desires to do good, is to do his best in a limited 
way, and after a while, when riches come, deal them out 
bountifully, and thus compensate for past inactivity. 
This is the reason why I do not feel exactly satisfied 
with my mode of life." 

The italics in the above are his own. This letter 
reveals a marked characteristic of his whole life ; an 
earnest desire to engage in present work for Christ and 
His cause. Soon after this, as chairman of a committee 
of the board, it devolved upon me to conduct the cor- 
respondence with him that led to his removal to Phila- 
delphia in the Autumn of 1856. Though I have none of 
the many letters that passed between us now in my 
possession, yet I have this distinct recollection that his 
desire to engage in direct Christian work seemed to be 
his governing motive in accepting the place opened 
before him. In a long personal interview I had with 
him, he told me of his great disappointment in not being- 
able to enter upon the work of the ministry, to which he 
had early consecrated his life, because of his bronchial 
troubles ; and said that next to preaching the gospel, it 
seemed to him that he could best serve Christ and His 
cause by helping to create and circulate a Christian and 
denominational literature. That he entered the work 
of the Publication Society under the full conviction 
that he could there more directly labor to advance the 
cause of Christ than in the private walks of business 
life, I entertain not a doubt. And he was right in this 
view of the case. He was there at once brought into a 
close connection with a great number of Sunday schools 
throughout the entire field of the Society's operations. 
The Society had not then, as now, depositories in Boston 
and New York, Chicago and St. Louis. Hence the 



82 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

Sunday schools, East and West, secured their supplies 
largely from the depository in Philadelphia. Mr. Dick- 
erson at once saw that through this agency he could 
extend a helping hand to Christian workers over a vast 
field. And though he had never entered the ministry, 
yet his heart was in full accord with the work of the 
ministry, and he believed that in this place he could be 
a helper to many of his brethren who were toiling in 
poverty and in obscure places, with few opportunities 
for their own personal improvement. As it was a 
department of the Society's work to furnish to poor min- 
isters libraries and other helps, it appealed at once to 
the best sympathies of his heart. It was this prospect 
of being brought into direct contact with Christian 
work that induced him to enter the service of the 
Society. 

How genial and attractive he made our " Baptist 
headquarters " in that city it would be superfluous for 
me to state to any who knew the man, or who ever 
entered the " Rooms " while the business department 
w T as under his control. He was at once the welcome 
companion of the most cultured of his brethren, and 
knew how to sympathize with those whose lot was 
among the lowly. I think I can safely say that no one 
ever went to him, while there, for counsel and sympathy 
in vain. While abounding in genial humor and a play- 
ful cheerfulness, he at the same time was a wise, earnest, 
and safe counsellor. These characteristics early gave him 
a large place in the love and confidence of his brethren 
in that city. That he was a popular and successful 
officer of the Society I think would be the unanimous 
testimony of those now living who were then members 
of the board. I remained associated with him in this 
relation until the Summer of 1859, and T do not rem em- 



RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 83 

ber that his administration was ever criticised. We all 
felt that the work intrusted to him was in safe hands and 
was well done. 

But Mr. Dickerson was brought into a closer relation 
to me, and my heart prompts me to speak of him in 
that relation. Upon his removal to the city he at once 
became a member of my church, and his home was but 
a single square from my own. Though he had been 
educated for the ministry, and in early life licensed to 
preach, yet he was known among us as a Christian lay- 
man. While his relations to the public caused him to 
be often called upon for special services by the churches 
and Sunday schools of the city and vicinity, yet I have 
always looked upon him as a model layman in his rela* 
tions to his own church. 

He was loyal to his own church. He recognized the 
fact that church membership involved obligations : that 
his covenant with his church was a reality, and not a 
mere form. Though he was poor and his income small, 
he at once assumed his full share of the financial bur- 
dens of the church and met it promptly. He also 
shared liberally with his brethren in meeting all the 
calls of benevolence that were addressed to them. The 
appointments of the church he regarded as including 
him. He gave his pastor the support of his presence, 
and his earnest attention and sympathy twice on the 
Sabbath, and twice during the week. Whoever else was 
absent I always expected to see him in his pew Sabbath 
morning and evening, and in his seat at the Wednesday 
evening lecture, and Friday evening prayer meeting. 
If called to go elsewhere to do Christian work his habit 
was to inform me, that I should not be disappointed 
because his place was vacant. In the prayer-meeting 
he was one of the best helpers I ever knew. He knew 



84 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

how to speak u a word in season." He displayed 
wonderful tact; the power to adapt himself to the needs 
of a meeting. When the pastor introduced a thought 
or subject for the meeting, he was ready to follow in the 
same line. His rapid thought and ready utterance, his 
genial spirit and deep Christian love, gave him great 
power in a prayer-meeting talk. Some of the most 
fervid, stirring, melting appeals I have ever heard fell 
from his lips in these services. 

He was with us during a rich harvest season in the 
church. For three years we had constantly in the con- 
gregation anxious inquirers and rejoicing converts, and 
baptisms occurred almost monthly during the entire 
time. The work began in the Autumn of 1855 and 
culminated in the great revival season of 1857-8. In 
carrying forward this great work after the first year, 
Mr. Dickerson was my constant and faithful helper. 
He taught a young ladies' Bible class, for whose religious 
welfare he labored most earnestly. He was with me in 
the inquiry meeting, among the converts, and in the 
more' public services. That he won many precious souls 
to Christ during that remarkable season of religious 
interest, who will at last shine as stars in his crown of 
rejoicing, I have no doubt. 

As may readily be inferred from the above Mr. Dick- 
erson was loyal as a layman to his pastor. He knew 
how to hold up the hands of his pastor, and how to 
encourage his heart. He was not afraid or ashamed, on 
the one hand, occasionally to speak an appreciative 
word of a sermon or even of a prayer-meeting talk, or, 
on the other, to make a suggestion to the pastor privately, 
upon any point where he thought the public services 
could be improved, He was constant and earnest in 



RESIDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA. 85 

his endeavors to make his pastor strong in the church 
and the community 

One chapter in the life of Mr. Dickerson, perhaps 
more than any other, endeared him to me and revealed 
the true manhood of the man. In the Spring of 1858 
I found myself broken down from overwork, and my 
church gave me leave of absence for a half year to 
recruit. I at once determined upon a tour in Europe. 
Mr. Dickerson cheerfully consented to act as chairman 
of the committee on pulpit supply during my absence. 
His position in the Publication rooms gave him peculiar 
facilities for doing the work. Before leaving home I 
arranged with the pastors of the city so that it was easy 
for him to supply the pulpit the first half of the time 
of my absence, but the supply of the last half was 
practically left in his hands. I had often talked with 
him about making the trial of preaching, as I knew how 
his heart yearned for the work, but his bronchial trouble 
was so constant that he feared to make the attempt. Even 
the prayer-meeting talks mentioned above often gave 
him nights of great suffering. In talking with him about 
the supply of the pulpit during the last months of my 
absence, I said : " Brother Dickerson, preach yourself." 
When he urged the condition of his throat as a reason 
why he could not attempt it, I replied that he was 
among his friends who honored and loved him; that he 
need not go beyond his strength; that a brief service, 
such as he could conduct, would be much more accept- 
able to the people than other supplies that he might be 
obliged to accept. Months passed; the pastoral supplies 
for which I had arranged were exhausted; and Mr. Dick- 
erson found it not easy to meet the demands of a large 
congregation from Sabbath to Sabbath with such sup- 



86 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

plies as he could secure. At length a Saturday came 
when he had no supply engaged for the next day nor 
did he know where to find one. When considering 
what he should do he remembered the words " preach 
yourself," and he resolved that he would make the 
attempt. As he said to me afterwards, Ci I thought I 
could but fail ; if my voice left me the people would 
know why I did not complete the service, and, in any 
event I should show my good will." For years he had 
been accustomed to make notes or outlines of sermons 
in connection with his Bible-reading, for his own grati- 
fication (so fully was his heart in sympathy with the 
work of preaching), with no thought of ever being able 
to use them in the pulpit. He went early to his home 
that Saturday and made what preparation he could from 
some of these notes or outlines for the next day. 

The Sabbath came, a beautiful autumnal Sabbath, 
and a large congregation met him. He preached with 
unexpected ease to himself, and to the great delight of 
the people. After the labors of the day. he said he 
suffered less than he had often done after a simple 
prayer-meeting talk. This settled the question of sup- 
plies. The people took the matter into their own 
hands; they rallied around him with a new interest; he 
preached Sabbath after Sabbath with increasing ease to 
himself, and to the great satisfaction of the church. It 
was like a revelation to him that he was so far able to 
surmount his bodily infirmity as to engage in the work 
to which he had early given his life, but from which he 
had been so long deterred. He was preaching to a 
church where his personal popularity was almost 
unbounded, and when the pastor was thousands of 
miles away. And here he revealed his true manhood. 
No service was allowed to pass without the most affec- 



RESIDENCE IX PHILADELPHIA. 87 

tionate remembrance of the absent pastor. He sought 
in every way to keep the pastor in his true position in 
the church, and to prepare the way for him to resume 
his work on his return. What he had been in my 
presence he was in my absence, and even more. On my 
return he was the first man to greet me with a "welcome 
home," and none seemed more glad than he to see me 
again in my own pulpit. 

After this Mr. Dickerson was frequently invited to 
preach for different churches, and I have always regarded 
this experience as helping to prepare the way for his 
entrance upon the work of the ministry, to which he 
devoted the best years of his life, and in which he 
enioved so siarnallv the smiles of Heaven. 

In talking over our experience in Philadelphia, as we 
have often done in later years, Dr. Dickerson has said 
to me more than once in his humorous, playful manner: 
" My dear brother, I could easily have unsettled you in 
the Eleventh Church when I was preaching there, and 
you were in Europe. c Possession is nine points in the 
law/ and I had possession while you were so far away 
that you could not interfere;" and then he would add 
seriously, " I should have despised myself while I lived 
had I not been true to the trust you reposed in me." 
I may add that absent pastors do not always find such 
fidelity in those whom they leave behind. 

Mr. Dickerson bought the Christian Chronicle and 
became its editor and publisher. He was engaged upon 
this when he began to preach for the church in Wil- 
mington, and continued it until he was satisfied that it 
was safe for him to settle as pastor, and devote himself 
wholly to the work of the ministry. With his surrender 
of the Chronicle he closed his labors in his native city, 
henceforth to take his place in the ranks of settled 



88 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

pastors, leaving behind him a great number of warmly 
attached friends^ not a few of whom preceded him to 
the heavenly land. 

I have thus complied with your request to furnish 
you something of the life of your lamented husband in 
Philadelphi-a, for the memorial volume. You are at per- 
fect liberty to use it or not as will best serve your 
purpose. Yours fraternally, 

D. B. Cheney. 

Chicago, October 5, 1877- 



CHAPTER VII. 

LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 

In the year 1859, Dr. Cheney, Mr. Dickerson's 
pastor, was given leave of absence for six months 
to travel in Europe, a committee being appointed to 
procure supplies for the pulpit during his absence, 
at the expense of the church. Mr. Dickerson, effi- 
cient as he was, and a favorite in the church, was 
made chairman of the committee. To relieve him, 
however, of care, Dr. Cheney himself, before his 
departure, saw a number of the Philadelphia pastors 
and engaged a supply for nearly three months of 
the time, Mr. Dickerson being expected to notify 
them of the day of their expected service, and for 
the remaining period of the pastor's absence to take 
himself the responsibility of procuring the required 
supplies. It happened that, soon after the previously 
engaged sources of supply had been exhausted, 
there came a time when no preacher could be found 
for the coming Sabbath. Plenty of clergymen 
"looked in" at the editor's office during the week, 
and assisted him abundantly in consuming with 
pleasant chat his valuable time, but none of them 
was found " available " for his needs on the Sabbath, 
as each had his own flock to look after. On Saturday 
afternoon Mr. Dickerson found himself obliged, as 
the only solution of the problem, to face the alter- 
89 



90 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

native of entering the pulpit himself. This was not 
exactly what he had bargained for with the absent 
pastor: long disuse had made preaching look for- 
midable, and wellnigh an impossibility. But there 
was no escaping it. He went home Saturday 
afternoon, made his appeal for help to the well- 
known and faithful Helper, selected for the next 
day and re-studied a couple of sermons of which he 
had prepared the outline in former years, and on the 
following day, with a brave but trembling heart, 
ascended to the pulpit. His Helper did not fail him : 
the church were so delighted with the sermons that 
they immediately voted to request him to continue 
to preach for them until their pastor's return. He 
complied with their request, and thus re-entered, in 
a providential way that seemed accidental, that form 
of Christian work which had formerly been the 
object of his warmest aspirings ; which for years past 
he had looked upon regretfully as a closed Eden; 
but which from this time was to be the joyful 
occupation, and to task the highest energies, of his 
life. The sermons which he preached on this 
occasion had been roughly sketched at Hamilton, 
and in breadth and power fell far below multitudes, 
perhaps the average, of his sermons in later years ; 
yet we venture to give a few paragraphs from them, 
as furnishing some idea of the impressiveness of 
thought and diction, which so many delightedly 
remember as associated with an equally earnest and 
impressive delivery. In his highest and best moods 
Mr. Dickerson not unfrequently became in the 
pulpit almost sublimely eloquent. 



LAST YEAR IX PHILADELPHIA. 91 

One of the two sermons was from the text, " In 
the place where the tree falleth there it shall be :' 9 
the other from the words. ,; I would not live alway." 
In the former, after describing a forest where were 
living and dead trees, some decaying where they 
had fallen, he says : " Such is the beautiful figure in 
which inspiration has stated the solemn and momen- 
tous truth of our text. And what is that truth? It 
is this : Men are likened unto trees, and death the 
power which fells them. And as men die. so they 
must forever be. Whatever the moral condition of 
a man when he falls in death, that will be his moral 
condition forever. * * * This was the sublime 
truth enunciated to the rapt evangelist when the 
apocalyptic angel cried. %i He that is filthy, let him 
be filthy still ; and he that is holy, let him be holy 
still." * * * 

Then he unfolds the truth of the text under two 
propositions : 

1st. The tendencies of man's moral nature are 
downward ; and 

2d. That death in no way affects the operation 
of this law : that it can neither stop nor change its 
action. In the summing up, he says : 

If a person die whose nature has been renewed by 
divine grace, then forever will this new principle be 
developing in that soul in higher and still higher forms 
of moral perfection. But if the contrary be true, what 
then? If man's nature is downward, if death does not 
change that tendency, then if death overtakes us while 
yet in our sins, eternally beyond the grave will our 
natures be unrenewed, and that law of degenerate pro- 



92 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

gression be in perpetual exercise. We are not speaking 
of the eternal punishment of the wicked, but of their 
eternal enmity to God. That enmity is gross during their 
lives, but at death it begins a career of unrestrained and 
increasing perversity, growing more and more bitter, 
more and more malignant as the ages of eternity unfold. 
But think you there can be happiness for such a spirit in 
any realm of Heaven? Would not such a spirit make 
Hell its chosen hiding-place? Say you such a soul will 
be punished, but not forever; it will be purged, and 
purified and fitted for Heaven! Sad and fatal delusion! 
Tell me, if ye can, how long will be the duration of 
such an experiment? Unfit for Heaven at death, the 
soul will be turned into perdition — and, if at death 
deserving of flames, and if in its nature becoming worse 
and worse, sinking deeper and deeper in the gulf of the 
lost, tell me, I pray you, how long this terrible progress 
in all that is vile shall deepen its guilt before it will be 
pure enough for Heaven? How long shall the banished 
spirit urge its downward flight in the deep, dark, bottom- 
less abyss before it shall reach the shining portals of the 
heavenly city? 

No, no, no; Mercy, blessed messenger of Jesus, knows 
no such way to pilot souls to Heaven as takes them 
through the burning; tide of some future Hell! On this 
side the grave she calls them with the sweetest tones; all 
the day long she pleads, and her mantle is wet with the 
damps of the night, and the dew of the morning. 

Cold mountains and the midnight air, 
Witness the fervor of her prayer. 

She cries after men down to the very borders of the 
grave, but there she pauses — they pass beyond her reach 
— she looks after them across the dreary waste of eternal 
years — she weeps — but can not follow! All her many 



LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 93 

gracious influences which rendered life one long 
continued season of pleading and restraint she now 
withdraws forever. Oh, dear sinner, remember, remem- 
ber, that when the second death shall stretch its pall 
over thy condemned spirit, all these calls and oppor- 
tunities of mercy thou wilt forever miss! In vain wilt 
thou look through the gathering gloom for some ray of 
light. The heavens which stretched above thine 
earthly pathway, were radiant with ten thousand starry 
hopes, but now every star has faded from the sky — 
and when at death the last one set — hope for thy soul 
went out forever. 

I can see him as with a sad face he stated these 
solemn truths, and then his countenance brightening, 
with a beaming, winning smile, he said: 

But, thanks be unto God, ye are not dead, but 
living. Still it is a time of hope ; still unto you 
the messages of mercy are given, and Jesus stands with 
open and inviting arms. Will you not fly from sin and 
danger, and through Jesus secure the hopes which now 
hang suspended upon the brittle thread of time? Oh, 
decide wisely, decide now! For while death seals our 
opportunities, the Spirit sometimes leaves us even before 
ice die, and we thus anticipate our doom before we hear 
its awful decisions thundering in our guilty ears. How 
fearful will be that trumpet blast as the scenes of the 
judgment close, and the wicked dead shall hear the angel 
cry, as they rise from impenitent graves, " He that is 
filthy, let him be filthy still." And the ages, as they 
roll their unending cycles through eternity, shall but echo 
God's approval of the verdict, " Filthy still, filthy still; " 
while the tormented spirit, ever conscious of its 
increasing and malignant hate of all things pure and 



94 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 

beautiful and true, will mutter with weeping and wail- 
ing its verdict and its doom, " Filthy still, filthy still! " 

In the sermon from the text " I would not live 
alway," after describing Job, his afflictions and his 
patience, he divides his subject thus, under the gen- 
eral theme, " Why is it that the Christian often 
exclaims — I would not live alway? " 

1. This is a life of sin. 

2. This is a life of trouble. 

3. This is a life of labor and toil. 

4. Death has no terrors. 

5. Finally, his reward is in the life to come. 

We quote from under the two last heads, one of 
which, where he describes the death of the Christian, 
was prophetic of his own. 

4. Death has no terrors. 

To the natural heart, death is indeed the King of 
Terrors; among all the ranks of the ungodly, none can 
be found who dares to meet him. At his approach the 
lips of the boldest blasphemers turn white with fear; the 
stoutest knees will tremble, the stoutest heart will quail. 
AH that appertains to death is regarded with instinctive 
dread — the death chamber, the shroud, the coffin, the 
mournful knell, all strike apprehension to the uncon- 
verted soul. And it is not strange ! Who would 
not tremble as he sees the last coil of time running out 
that is to leave him amid a starless night, adrift, upon the 
trackless, shoreless ocean — Eternity ! Who would not 
tremble as he is about to approach that great white 
throne, and sees alreadv the lio;htiiino;s of God's wrath, 
and hears ringing in his ears eternity's awful knell — 
depart! depart! Yes, yes, the impenitent sinner may 



LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 95 

well tremble here! In the enjoyment of God's bless- 
ing's, in life and in health, he could put on courage, and 
set all good influences at defiance ; could smile at the 
entreaties of God's people and make their prayers a 
jest ; and could resist with much apparent boldness 
God's pleading Spirit. But when death approaches, he 
cries aloud with alarm; he shrieks in terror ; his 
affrighted and guilty spirit flutters like a bird in the 
hands of the fowler, and he dies in fear. But who 
is this that amid all the solemnity of life's last scene, 
when the dying hour is almost spent, when earth is re- 
ceding from his view, and the realities of eternity are 
dimly reflected in his glassy eye; who is this that 
whispers, "Death has no terrors?" Who is this that 
grows calm, while others mourn and are troubled? Who 
is this that smiles, while others broken-hearted weep in an 
agony of grief ? Need I say, it is the Christ-pardoned, 
Christ-supported one? To him death is a vanquished 
foe; dvino- is the last struo-o-le which secures the 
crown; the cutting of the cord which binds his fluttering 
spirit, struggling to be free ; the crossing of the Jordan 
to "that happy land of pure delight, where saints 
immortal reign; " and amid the overflowings of the 
cold waters, he shouts triumphantly, " I would not live 
alway." 

5. But finally, his reward is in the life to come. 

Although the true and faithful Christian is abundantly 
repaid even in this life for all the sacrifices he is called 
upon to make, he is taught to expect hereafter the far 
more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. The 
heaven of his hopes stands ever before the eye of his 
faith, as did Canaan in all its varied loveliness before the 
ravished eyes of Moses, as from the summits of Pisgah 
he wishfully looked forth. 



96 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

We have spoken of this life as one of sin, but the 
Christian's life to come is one of perfect holiness. All 
the sinful propensities of our nature which here are the 
occasion of so much pain, will there be purged, and the 
motives and emotions of the soul will be of the purest 
and loftiest nature. The service of God, so imperfect on 
earth, will be exchanged for the purer and nobler 
employment of the redeemed in the presence of 
Jehovah ; and all the inhabitants of that celestial empire 
will be enowed in them ; their eves will no more see 
sin, nor their hearts feel its anguish. Sin can never 
enter there, but perfect holiness shall reign forever and 
ever. 

We have said that this life is one of trouble; the life 
beyond is to the Christian infinite in its enjoyments. 
All tears will there be wiped away, no trouble there — 
no partings — no bereavements — no bitter disap- 
pointments — no sad regrets. * * * No jarring 
word will be heard in all their acclamations of 
praise ; no discordant note in all their songs of 
joy. But noblest, richest, rarest pleasure of them all, 
Christ Jesus will be there, Christ the glorified, and 
Christ the triumphant. But will He then remember 
and love His earth-born people? When on His glorious 
and all - resplendent throne, when all the myriads of 
angels, the cherubim and the seraphim, the flaming 
spirits of His august court, the countless ranks and 
armies of the skies are about Him as a pavilion, will He 
then remember me? a poor sinner of earth, saved only 
by His extremest grace! O, yes, oh, yes! and as His eye 
of love shall fall on me, and as he hears my feeble cry — 
hushed will be the rustling of angelic wings, hushed 
their voice of praise, hushed every echoing harp, and 
Heaven shall be still. Then in His presence, at his feet, 



LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 97 

will I, as a thousand times before, repeat my simple 

prayer, 

Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come ! 

Then when my Christ shall say, " Come in, thou 
blessed of the Lord," the listening host shall shout a 
glad " Amen," and Heaven shall be joyful in its praise 
of that grace which could save a wretch like me. Such 
a welcome, brethren beloved, awaits us all. How 
natural and how delightful to anticipate the crowning 
glory of that expected hour ! We have spoken of the 
present as a life of toil ; that upon which we hope to 
enter, is one of everlasting rest. Not of indolence or 
sloth, but of happy exemption from wearisome labor and 
exhausting toil. The powers of the soul will all be 
enlisted, but in that alone which will contribute to its 
highest development and its greatest felicity. He who 
from the heights of Heaven looks back upon earth will 
remember it as the place where his work was finished. 
When there, all was labor and toil, but when earth 
passed away, these labors ceased. The good seed had 
been sown; the harvests of redemption had been gath- 
ered, until the millennial splendors burst upon the 
astonished world, and angels shouted their " Harvest 
Home." But now the tired workman may rest within 
the garner of his Lord, and enjoy the full fruition of his 
earthly toil. 

Is this then the Christian's prospect, the Christian's 
hope, the Christian's rich and sure reward? O, how can 
he but anticipate and long for it? And how delightful 
and tranquilizing must the influence of this expected 
heritage be upon his spirit while suffering the bondage 

5 



98 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

of time ! Oh, my brethren, let us not cling so eagerly 
to life ; let us not stand so in fear of death ; let us not 
hesitate at sacrifices, or shrink from the labors and 
duties of time, but take hold of and by faith enjoy all 
that is laid up in store for us through the abounding 
mercv and goodness of the Saviour ! Thus will our 
affections be weaned away from earth and placed on 
Heaven, and on Him whose presence, majesty, and love 
lend to Heaven all its charms ! 

To the satisfaction and indeed the delight of the 
church, Mr. Dickerson continued his preaching for 
them until the return of Dr. Cheney, who then 
playfully informed him that he considered there 
was little chance for himself, as his temporary sub- 
stitute had entirely led captive the affections of the 
people. Mr. Dickerson, however, was not a man to 
encourage division ; the returned pastor readily re- 
sumed his place in the hearts of his people ; and 
Mr. Dickerson, cheerfully resigning his lieutenancy, 
found ample occasion for continuing his preaching 
in pulpits temporarily vacated through the sickness 
or absence of their habitual occupants. 

Soon after this, in 1860, he received an invitation 
to supply the pulpit of the Second Baptist Church 
in Wilmington, Del., for six months. As Wilming- 
ton was but an hour's ride from Philadelphia, and 
as he had experienced no apparent ill effect in his 
throat and lungs during the several months of his 
recent preaching, he accepted the invitation. He 
preached for the church regularly, except when occa- 
sionally giving way to persons who came to preach 
as candidates, but with no thought of appearing as 



LAST YEAR IX PHILADELPHIA. 99 

a candidate himself. He found, indeed, to his sur- 
prise that, notwithstanding the expressed judgments 
of physicians that the state of his throat would 
never allow of his permanent public speaking, he 
yet did not suffer sensibly from the practice, but 
sometimes found himself rather better " for a 
good preach," and on the whole seemed to be 
gaining in health and vigor. Matters at length 
came to a decision. Toward the close of the year 
the Wilmington Church held a meeting to discuss 
the claims of candidates, but found none among 
those who had appeared before them whom they 
could unite in calling. At length the question arose 
whether it might not be possible to induce him who 
was now filling their pulpit temporarily to change 
his relation into that of permanent pastor, the 
opinion being expressed that they could unanimously 
vote for him, as he was universally loved, and his 
preaching was universally acceptable. The strong- 
est doubts, however, were expressed as to the possi- 
bility of his being obtained, as it was well known 
that he had relinquished his purpose of preaching, 
and taken his present position, under very decided 
medical advice. The church adjourned its meeting 
therefore with little or no hope of securing him. 

On the next day as Mr. Dickerson was on his way 
to Wilmington he fell in with one of the most influ- 
ential members of the Wilmington Church, who 
informed him of the discussion of the night previ- 
ous, and asked him if he would consent that his 
name should come before them for the pastorate. 
He replied that preaching was his delight beyond 



100 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

any other work which he could engage in, yet he 
should hesitate to sell his paper, as in case of failure 
it might be difficult for him to re-establish himself 
in business. 

" But," replied his friend, " you have been 
preaching for us almost regularly for six months, 
and you yourself declare your health to be better 
than a year ago. What reason for supposing 
that if you exchange your work as editor for that 
of the pastorate, your health will be likely to 
suffer?" 

" That is a new view," said Mr. Dickerson, " and 
something for me to think about. It may be that 
God is opening the way to me for a life of preach- 
ing." 

He did think about it, and so did the church ; or 
rather with no further thought about it than simply 
to find him not indisposed to listen, ihej gave him, 
Dec. 10th, I860,, a unanimous call, and he became 
their pastor. He accepted it in January, the accept- 
ance to take effect March 1, 1861. He had the 
privilege of retaining for a year his newspaper, and 
spending three days of the week in Philadelphia. 
His income from the paper was $1,600.00 in 
gold, and at the close of the year he relinquished 
this for a salary of $1,000.00 in currency — not, from 
a wordly point of view, a very profitable exchange. 
But he sought — and we doubt not obtained — 
the " durable riches" of righteousness, the treasure 
in heaven that fadeth not away. The salary he 
received during this period, however, he paid over to 



LAST YEAR IN PHILADELPHIA. 101 

Rev. Dr. J. Newton Brown, who became associate 
editor of the paper. His arrangements being finally 
completed, he removed, in the Spring, with his family 
to Wilmington, and assumed the pastorate of the 
Second Baptist Church in that city. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

RESIDENCE IX WELMINGTON. 

Mr. Dickerson had been but a short time in Wil- 
mington before it became evident, both to himself and 
others, that Providence had ordered the steps which 
brought him thither, and was vindicating and stamp- 
ing with its seal of approval, that crowning purpose 
of his life which had linked it with the ministry 
of the gospel. He speedily became the most popular 
preacher in the place ; his Sabbath audiences in- 
creased constantly ; the Sunday-school nearly dou- 
bled itself ; and he was called on to speak on all 
Sunday-school anniversaries, and other occasions of 
public and religious interest. 

Mr. Dickerson had, however, other duties which, 
if, to the Christian minister, less ultimately and 
transcenclently important, were of even more obvious 
and pressing public interest. To one who marked 
carefully the course and issues of events, it could 
scarcely be doubtful that the hand of God had 
guided him to Wilmington, not only to promote 
great spiritual, but also great public and patriotic 
interests. The country was in the agony of an 
opening civil war ; the powerful gripe of a great 
armed rebellion was fastening itself upon her throat, 
and under the alleged right of secession the South- 

102 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 103 

ern States were rapidly banding themselves against 
the Union. Mr. Dickerson had scarcely been a 
month in Wilmington when the cannon fired upon 
Fort Sumter plunged the nation into the dire reality 
of civil war. Delaware was a slave State, and, 
although in the northern county of Newcastle there 
was a small Republican majority, and the population 
was less intensely Southern in feeling and sympathy 
than in the middle and southern counties, still Wil- 
mington bad mam' prominent citizens who were out- 
spoken in their advocacy of State sovereignty and 
slavery. So pronounced was this feeling in the com- 
munity that amidst the excitement consequent upon 
the fall of Sumter many loyal men were intimidated 
into silence by the open sympathy of influential and 
wealthy citizens with the rebellion. It was not so 
with Mr. Dickerson. Young in years and small in 
stature ; gentle, genial and kindly in manner and 
disposition, he would have been judged by those 
who knew him superficially as likely to be conserva- 
tive in temper, shrinking from the advocacy of un- 
popular views, and timid in resistance to the en- 
croachments of wrong. No opinion could be more 
erroneous. His small body enshrined the spirit of 
a hero : his genial manners, that seemed gentle as a 
summer breeze, were united with a principle as sturdy 
as the oak that defies the tempest : and he speedily 
came to be recognized as among the boldest men in 
the State, unflinchingly sustaining the cause of the 
Union, advocating loyalty to the Government, and 
inspiring with its spirit his fellow-citizens. On Fri- 
day, April 12th, Fort Sumter was attacked, and on the 



104 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

following Saturday such a wave of excitement swept 
over the land as had probably not been known since 
the days of the Revolution. On the afternoon of 
that day Mr. Dickerson went to his study with a 
heart fired with loyal zeal, and fully alive to the 
character and magnitude of the struggle that had 
commenced between freedom and slavery, loyalty 
and treason, government and anarchy. He laid 
aside the sermon which he had prepared for the com- 
ing Sabbath, and made full notes of a discourse on 
" The Duties of the Hour." In the evening he saw 
some of his members, who were loyal to the coun- 
try, and informed them of the topic which he pro- 
posed to discuss on the morrow, and requested that 
the pulpit might be wreathed with the American 
flag. Some opposed the fulfilling of his purpose ; 
others were favorable, but timid ; while two or three 
were willing, at the hazard of whatever sacrifice, to 
stand by the Government. 

It was quite a different matter in a city hovering 
on the very verge of secession, and with a large and 
powerful sentiment outspoken in its favor, to preach 
a sermon of this kind, from what it was to preach 
a like discourse in a Northern city. Even there the 
patriotic support which the pulpit rendered to the 
Government, the ready zeal with which the great 
body of the clergy lent their powerful influence to 
the cause of union and freedom, was by no means 
to be lightly esteemed. But the eloquence that 
found itself borne up, inflamed, and even anticipated, 
by the burning enthusiasm of an entire congrega- 
tion, and of an almost unanimous community, had 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 



105 



a far easier task than that which, with the very 
billows of secession dashing angrily around it, was 
poured out upon a timid, half-hearted, divided con- 
gregation in which for a man to be an avowed and 
unshaken Unionist was to be consciously a hero, and 




SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH, 

WILMINGTON, DEL. 



possibly a martyr. Such were the elements that 
surrounded Mr. Dickerson, and amidst which he 
instantly, unflinchingly and unwaveringly took his 
stand for the cause in which he deemed were bound 
up the best interests of his country. A few, and 
but a few, rallied nobly to his support. Some of his 
members, knowing the excitement that prevailed in 



106 JAMES S. DICKERSOX 

the community, asked him if he would like to have 
an armecl guard by him in the church. He declined 
the proposal, preferring to trust to God and the right 
for his protection. Some of the brethren, however, 
without his knowledge, arranged that an armed force 
should be present, both to shield him from attack, 
and the church from threatened injury. He had the 
theme of his sermon as widely advertised as possible, 
hoping that it might benefit many outside of his 
own congregation. 

The Sabbath morning came, looked forward to by 
many with great trepidation. A large assembly 
gathered in his spacious church, and in the words of 
another, " with his pulpit decorated with the Na- 
tional banner, and underneath the stars and stripes, 
he met the great throng of his fellow-citizens ; and 
to him belongs the honor of sounding out the first 
notes of loyalty to his country's flag heard in the 
city of Wilmington. His great popularity at the 
time, and his words of ringing eloquence were a 
mighty power for leading the public mind in the 
right direction." He stood up before the audience 
(among whom he recognized many of his violent 
opposers), and with his clear, musical, ringing voice 
read the hymn beginning : 

Lord, while for all mankind we pray, 

Of every clime and coast, 
O hear us for our native land, 

The land we love the most. 

After an earnest, fervent prayer for the country, 
especially in this dark hour, for the President and 
all in authority, for the people that they might stand 



RESIDENCE IX TTILMIXGTOX. 107 

true and loyal, and cherish the heritage bought by 
the blood of their fathers, another stirring hymn was 
sung, and the preacher announced as his text Rom. 
xiii. 1. 

The sermon met the exigency : it was thrillingly 
eloquent. A few, during its delivery, evinced their 
displeasure by leaving the house, the preacher paus- 
ing in recognition of their withdrawal ; but no dis- 
turbance occurred, and at the close the great assem- 
bly rose, and in billowy chorus sang, as they had 
never before sung, the patriotic hymn : 

My country 'tis of thee, 
Land of the noble, free, 
Of thee I sing. 

We have enlarged a little on this scene as strik- 
ingly illustrating Mr. Dickerson's fearlessness in 
time of danger, and his fidelity to principle under the 
most trying circumstances, as well as because it ini- 
tiated a series of loyal and valuable services ren- 
dered by him to the country during the dark times 
that followed. In Wilmington and its neighbor- 
hood, by unceasing patriotic and Christian activity ; 
at Fort Delaware ; at the front as an officer of the 
Christian Commission ; — everywhere that his bodily 
or mental activity could make itself felt, he labored 
for the country and the Union until the war closed 
in the crushing of the rebellion. His service was 
recognized widely in the State, and in remoter quar- 
ters from which he dreamed of no such recognition. 
The Government learned to value a loyalty to the 
Union at once so staunch, so active, and so judicious ; 
and President Lincoln paid him probably no more 



108 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

than a well deserved compliment when he said, 
" That one, little, loyal, clear-headed Baptist minis- 
ter of Wilmington, James S. Dickerson, saved Dela- 
ware to the Union." Undoubtedly the little State 
of Delaware, cast into the doubtful and trembling 
balances of loyalty and secession, could scarcely add 
a preponderant and decisive weight, to turn the 
scale, and determine the issues of the great struggle. 
The conflict was of too vast proportions for that : 
half a continent was echoing with the din and reel- 
ing under the terrific shock of war. Yet, even then 
it was no little thing — no small service rendered to 
the cause of right and truth, to hold one small State 
firm to its moorings that would otherwise have been 
swept off by the raging tide of secession. This, it 
is scarcely too much to say, Mr. Dickerson effected ; 
and when it shall stand registered against his name 
that in this dark hour of his country's peril and 
agony " he did what he could," that what he could 
will be found to ha ye earned him from all who 
rightly estimate noble deeds, a rich reward of grati- 
tude and praise. We may add that Mr. Dickerson's 
course here in Delaware in this political crisis was 
but of a piece with his entire course of life as a 
Christian minister. He did not reserve either his 
zeal, his boldness, or his discretion, for a war of but 
temporal, even though national, interests. It was in 
the great battle between spiritual truth and error, 
between holiness and sin, between moral freedom 
and slavery, between the powers of eternal life and 
eternal death, that he had primarily enlisted, and 
that his supreme energies were called forth, and in 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 109 

behalf of these great interests alike now and in all 
his later career, his devotion, his courage, and his 
prudence never failed. Rarely, very rarely, indeed, 
has there been so happily constituted a nature. The 
genial and frolicksome companion was a moral hero. 
His temper was buoyancy itself, his heart was affec- 
tion, and his principles were adamant. 

For months after the preaching of this sermon 
Mr. Dickerson labored strenuously to instill into the 
minds of the citizens loyal principles, by speeches at 
mass-meetings, by editorials in the Wilmington pa- 
pers, and by other means which his earnest patriotism 
was fertile in suggesting. Thus, to his personal in- 
fluence, his magnetism, and his eloquence, it was 
very largely owing that in the following year, in 
spite of the fiercest opposition, a Republican Gover- 
nor was elected and inaugurated. 

There was also one form of warlike experience of 
which those of us who lived far in the Northern in- 
terior can have little conception — this is the con- 
stant excitement of a people through whose city 
troops were almost daily passing on their way to the 
field of action, while in reflex movement, and in too 
nearly equal proportions, trains loaded with wounded 
men on their way back to Northern hospitals, 
stopped to secure for their suffering occupants rest 
and refreshment. Wilmington, lying nearly on the 
border land of the seat of war, was such a city. 
For months the bell of the City Hall rang out daily, 
and sometimes twice in the day, its well-known peal, 
summoning the people to gather at the depot with hot 
coffee, tea, and food for a train of wounded men ex- 



HO JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

pected shortly to arrive ; and from all quarters of the 
city of some twenty thousand inhabitants, loyal men, 
women, and children were seen coming with their 
baskets of food and cans of hot coffee, to comfort 
and refresh the weary travelers, often crowded to- 
gether on the floors of cattle-cars, often mutilated, 
always suffering, but generally patient, cheerful, and 
heroic. Whatever happened to be cooked in the 
houses for family use was at once taken to these sol- 
diers, and delegations of noble women came with 
cordials, bandages, and whatever was required for 
their solace and refreshment. It happened that on 
one Sabbath the Court House bell rang out just as 
the church bells were summoning the people to the 
house of prayer. The call ' of the former was of 
course imperative : the church-goers, taking their 
nicely prepared Sunday dinners, turned their steps 
towards the depot, and works of necessity and mercy 
to the faint and suffering were undoubtedly accepted 
on high in place of the pealing anthem and the 
utterances of prayer and praise in the great congre- 
gation. Audiences in the house of worship that 
morning may have been 4 ' fit, 5 ' but they certainly 
were 4s few." Mr. Dickerson preached to about 
twenty persons, closed the service shortly after eleven 
o'clock, and alike the pastor and his fragment of an 
audience, hastened to join the larger body of good 
Samaritans at the depot in offices of kindness to 
these sufferers who, by more than the ordinary tie, 
were their " neighbors." 
During the four years, from 1861 to 1865, Mr. 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. HI 

Dickerson and his wife were constantly active in de- 
vising and carrying out plans to aid the soldiers. 
Mrs. Dickerson was the treasurer of a society of 
women who spent much time in preparing for them 
articles of clothing, and who in a union effort worked 
assiduously in preparing a table of useful and beauti- 
ful articles for a great Sanitary Fair in Philadelphia, 
in which Wilmington was most handsomely repre- 
sented. Mr. Dickerson spent much time in visiting 
the hospitals in Wilmington, conversing with the 
soldiers, giving them religious counsel and reading, 
and ministering in various ways to their personal 
comfort. During one of those years he, with Gov. 
Cannon and several other officials, was appointed to 
escort President Lincoln in a special car from Wil- 
mington to Philadelphia. He had much conversa- 
tion with the President on the subject of the war, 
and the latter treated him alike with fraternal 
familiarity and as an honored guest, and publicly 
recognized the valuable service which he had ren- 
dered to the Government. 

But while Mr. Dickerson's entire political sym- 
pathies were thus enlisted on behalf of the Govern- 
ment, and he was what might be called a radical 
Republican, as a Christian minister he knew no po- 
litical or party lines. To all. of every shade of 
opinion, he was equally anxious to furnish the bread 
of life. Some thousands of rebel prisoners were 
confined in the neighboring Fort Delaware, and to 
these he desired to give spiritual comfort and 
instruction. He asked, therefore, from the military 



112 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

commander in Wilmington the privilege of going to 
the Fort for this purpose, and received in response 
the following document : 

Headquarters Military Commander, 

Wilmington, Delaware, July 22, 1863. 

Brigadier General A. Schoepf, 

Commanding Fort Delaware. 
General : The pious zeal of the Rev. James S. 
Dickerson has induced him to ask to be permitted to 
visit the Fort, and, with your sanction, offer to the rebel 
prisoners such ghostly comfort, loyal counsel, and reli- 
gious reading as may best conduce to their temporal and 
spiritual welfare. He has been appointed by Col. Mc- 
Comb as chaplain to his regiment, but was never regu- 
larly mustered into service. He is the jDastor of one of 
the Baptist churches of this city, and a gentleman in 
whom I have every confidence, and for whom I entertain 
sincere respect. Very respectfully, 

Your obedient servant, 

Henry B. Judd, 

Major U. S. Army and Military Commander. 

On Wednesday Mr. Dickerson received this per- 
mission to go to the Fort, and on Friday he went 
there, remaining until the following Tuesday. He 
talked with very many of the prisoners, gave them 
good counsel and good reading, and held one ever- 
to-be-remembered service on the Sabbath. There 
had been ten thousand prisoners there ; within 
a short period three thousand of the number 
had been exchanged, so that there were still 
seven thousand within the enclosure of the fort, 
and a sadder-looking, and more disconsolate 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 113 

company could scarcely be imagined. On Sunday, 
the 26th of July, one of the most sultry days of the 
season, he proposed preaching to them all, but on 
account of- the intense heat could not gather them 
together in the open court until near sunset. As they 
filed into the enclosure by hundreds until about seven 
thousand men wearing the gray uniform stood ready 
to hear the gospel from the lips of an anti-slavery, Re- 
publican, loyal minister, the commander of the Fort 
stepped up to Mr. Dickerson and asked him how 
much of a guard he would like about him as he went 
into the enclosure. He replied : 

"I don't want any guard at all." 

" You know where you are going, don't you — 
amono 1 seven thousand rebels ?" 

" Yes," he replied, " but I am not going there as 
a Northern man against Southerners, or as a loyal 
man against rebels, but as a Christian minister to 
preach the gospel of Christ. Just send in a big dry- 
goods box that I can stand on, so that they can see 
and hear me, and that is all I want." 

The box was carried in, and Mr. Dickerson 
climbed upon it. Before he began to preach he told 
the prisoners who he was, a minister from Wilming- 
ton, and a man loyal to the Union. 

"But," said he, " I have not come to talk to you 
as rebels, nor to discuss political questions, State 
rights, the Confederacy and the Government. But, 
as we are all rebels, both the blue coats and the gray 
ones, the Northerners and the Southerners, against 
the Lord of Hosts and His government, I have come 
to tell you how you can be reinstated in His favor, 

5* 



114 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

become His willing subjects, and, enlisting in the 
army of King Jesus, whose armies are the only ones 
that are victorious over every foe, come off con- 
querors at last." 

" And now," said he, "let us sing together one or 
two sweet hymns in which we can all join, which you 
have heard many a time in your Southern homes, 
and sung perhaps by your own happy firesides. I 
have chosen those which I think you will know, and 
now let everyone that can sing join with us in that 
grand old hymn c Jesus, lover of my soul.' ? 

He commenced it, while the men, many of them 
with husky voices and tear-filled eyes joined with 
him, even to the remotest lines of the assembly. 
He then gave out another, " There is a fountain 
filled with blood," which they sang most heartily. 
He then preached to them a plain and practical ser- 
mon from the text " There is joy in the presence of 
the Angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." 
His power of graphic description, and familiar and 
forcible illustration ; his fervid earnestness united 
with a graceful and impressive elocution, sent the 
great truths which he uttered right home to the 
hearts of the hearers. The great audience listened 
thrilled and spell-bound to the close, and to the final 
appeal in which he pleaded with them to forsake the 
service of sin and enlist under the banner of the 
cross, thus bringing joy alike to the heavenly 
hosts, and to many dear ones far away, who might 
even then be praying at their bereaved hearths for 
those who were exiled at once from their earthly 
and their heavenly home. Many of the hearers 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. H5 

melted into tears, and when he asked that all those 
who loved the Savior and were enlisted in his ser- 
vice should raise their hands, hundreds were up- 
lifted ; and when again he asked that all who would 
wish to begin a new life, and take Jesus as the Cap- 
tain of their salvation, should raise the hand, through 
the whole immense throng a sea of upraised hands 
could be discerned amidst the gathering shadows. 
They then sang successively the hymns, " Come, ye 
sinners, poor and wretched/* and 4i Children of the 
heavenly King,'" (the latter always a favorite,) after 
which he told them how glad he was of this oppor- 
tunity of addressing them, thanked them for their 
quietness and attention, and. promising to visit them 
again, proposed that they unite in singing the hymn : 

All hail the power of Jesus' name. 

Let angels prostrate fall ; 
Bring forth the royal diadem. 

And crown him Lord of all ; 

which they did, and from multitudes of lips and 
hearts that glorious Coronation hymn floated on the 
evening air over this vast assemblage of imprisoned 
exiles. Many hearts were drawn towards him in 
tender sympathy ; they gathered around him as he 
descended from his extemporized pulpit with stream- 
ing eyes and grateful words, and followed him 
(whom a little before it was deemed necessary to 
shield from their hostility with an armed guard) 
with loving looks as he passed from the enclosure to 
his apartments in the Fort. This was his first visit 
to them, but by no means his last ; although he did 
not again address here so large an audience. 



116 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

In April of this year he was enrolled as chaplain 
of the Fifth Delaware Regiment. The next year 
(May 12, 1864) he was appointed by the U. S. 
Christian Commission to go to the front to care for 
the wounded soldiers ; and he spent about two 
months in and near Fredericksburg. Some few of 
his notes it may be interesting to glance at, which 
he jotted down hastily in pencil, wherever it hap- 
pened, in the hospital or in the field. 

Mrs. Elizabeth H. Stuart, Jackson, Michigan. Hus- 
band wounded on the right side, below the shoulder, not 
very seriously — is getting along well. Will try to get 
a furlough. John H. Stuart. 

George H. Sears. Write to Mrs. Cor. Sears, his 
mother. N. Adams, Mass. Wounded in left thigh — 
serious but not dangerous, on Thursday, the 12th — get- 
ting on pretty well — love to F. and M. — and little 
Ella and Charlie. Clings to his hope in the Savior. 

Write to Pike Mills, Potter Co., Pa. Elliot Kilbourn, 
to his father, Jno. M. Kilbourn — wounded on the 12th, 
right leg off above the knee — getting on bravely — is 
in a store. Love to all, especially little Hattie. Won't 
be discharged till my time is up, three years from April. 
Don't be discouraged, father. 

Samuel Steen, to his mother, Mrs. Ann Steen, New 
Castle P. O., Pa. Right leg off above the knee — look- 
ing brighter to-day — tell his mother and brother w don't 
fret about me" (tears rolling down his cheeks). 

Asa Hamrick (rebel) to his wife, Mrs. R. C. Hamrick, 
Shelby, N. C. Was wounded in the left leg — off above 
the knee. Care of Gen. Winder, Richmond, Va. Is 
well treated and getting along. 

Ira C. Kitch, to his wife, Martha J. Kitch, Anderson- 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 117 

ville, Pa. In the right shoulder — serious, but not dan- 
gerous — getting along pretty well. Has four children 
— his hope is strong. He prays for you. I gave him 
Ada's Testament. 

Buried to-day, H. W. Reider, 1st Reg. Me., died May 
22, 1864. On Monday went to the battle ; on Tuesday 
in the hospital ; on Sunday dead. 

S. J. Allen, 17th Vermont Reg't, May 22, 1864. Se- 
verely wounded in the leg. Alive at 11:35 a. m., 
buried at 5 p. M. His wife, Mrs. Mary Allen, Morris- 
ville, Yt. 

An Indian, from Ottawa. Simon Geshey, Co. K. 1st 
Mich. Sharpshooters, and Peter Buckshot, from the 
Seven Nations, 9th N. H. 

Scene in Quartermaster Boyd's tent, when the mail 
came in with letters for several dead officers and men. 

The Indian warrior. Severely wounded in the ab- 
domen. I talked with him, and he said with clasped 
hands, " Yes, the Heavenly God " — and died. 

"Rally round the Flag." — The poor fellow, under the 
influence of chloroform, after a little wavering, moaning 
and groaning, sang " Rally round the flag, boys," while 
the amputation was going- on. 

The 1st Maine, and also a Mass. company, in magnifi- 
cent array on Monday, and on Tuesday broken, wounded, 
dying and dead in our hospitals. 

Belle Plain. A man struck and wounded with a shell. 
He asked for a testament and gave his heart to God. 

Temperance. The man whose back was ploughed 
with a shell from his shoulder to his hip — it was dressed 
without a murmur or a groan — not a drop of whisky 
would he take. 

The singing up stairs in the hospital. Hearing the 
sweet strains led a man to the Savior in the room below. 



118 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

The sick soldier in the Convent Hospital, Fredericks- 
burg. Wounded — faint — perhaps dying. " Will you 
have something to drink ?" " O no, sir, I can't drink 
rum." 

These, no doubt, are similar to the notes of all 
the officers of the Christian Commission, but will 
give an idea of the work he was doing there, and 
show what a strain there must have been on his deli- 
cate body, and his sensitive and sympathetic nature. 
Shortly after his return to Wilmington the Phil., 
Wil. & Bait. Railroad was threatened, and on Sunday 
morning notices were sent to all the churches like 
the following, which Mr. D. received: 

Headquarters Military Commander, 
Wilmington, Delaware, July 10, 1864. 

Citizens are earnestly requested to enroll their names 
and organize into companies of not less than eighty-two 
men for the defense of the Phil., Wil. & Bait. Railroad. 

Companies will be accepted for thirty days or the 
emergency, and will be mustered as soon as the proper 
number of men is reported to this office. Immediate 
action is necessary. 

Henry B. Judd, 

Major U. S. Army and Military Commander. 

Note. — The Citv Hall bell will be runs; for a meeting 

mi o o 

of citizens at the hall at 12 y 2 o'clock to-day. 
To the Pastor, 

2d Baptist Church, Wilmington, Del. 
(Please read this at the close of the services.) 

A letter written by his wife soon after to the editor 
of this memoir speaks of the general excitement, of 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 119 

the ordering off of the Fifth Delaware Regiment on 
a Sunday, and the strange appearance of the city as 
they came from church, while the drums were beat- 
ing, the fifes playing, soldiers marching, and every- 
thing utterly unlike a Sabbath day. She adds that 
Mr. Dickerson has overworked, has been holding 
two or three meetings a week at the hospitals, and 
doing so much in every way that he must have a 
long rest. 

During these years there was no one who labored 
with Mr. Dickerson so constantly and so loyally as 
the Rev. Dr. Aikman, pastor of one of the Presby- 
terian churches in Wilmington. From Aurora, New 
York, Dr. Aikman sends me the following ietter, 
which portrays the political condition of the State, 
and gives some account of the loyal work which 
was done by these two congenial spirits. In a note 
accompanying the letter Dr. Aikman writes: "I am 
painfully apprehensive that what I have been able 
to write in regard to Mr. Dickerson will not be 
satisfactory to you, even as it is not to me. My 
relations to, and affection for, your husband were of 
such a nature that what I prepare for the public eye 
necessarily appears very inadequate. I do not know 
how to help it." 

Aurora, X. Y., July 5, 1878. 

My Dear Mrs. Dickersox : It was in " the solemn 
and eventful days of the war" (so he impressively 
described them in his last letter to me), that I 
became acquainted with Dr. Dickerson. The peculiar 
circumstances in which we found ourselves, as well 
as our most perfect accord and sympathy on the 



120 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

great questions which were then shaking the land and 
making the air tropical from love or hatred, ripened 
the acquaintance almost at once into an intimacy and 
friendship which was very precious to us both. 

Delaware was a slave State and a border State. That 
single sentence has in it a volume of meaning to those 
who had their homes there when the rebellion came on. 
A great party had held the political power of the State 
for years; its whole sympathy was with the seceded 
States, and it would gladly have taken Delaware into 
the so-called Confederacy. 

At first it was extremely doubtful whether Delaware 
could be kept in the Union. Everything was critical 
and uncertain. At the head of the street on which I 
resided, and just round the corner from Mr. Dickerson's 
home, rebels were under arms and drilling. Opposite 
my residence Union men were drilling, while a sentinel 
with loaded rifle was keeping guard. Xo one could say 
when a collision might occur. As we walked abroad, 
or looked in the faces of passers by, it was with a feel- 
ing of entire uncertainty whether or not the man we 
might meet was an enemy who would gladly have our 
life. The parties were so evenly balanced that it was 
impossible to say in advance which would be in the 
ascendancy. 

In the all wise ordering of Divine Providence almost 
every pulpit in Wilmington, the largest and most 
influential city of the State, was filled by a Union man, 
and several by the most prominently Xorthern and 
anti-slavery men. So it was that as the first mutterings 
of the coming storm were heard, these pulpits began to 
speak, and when it burst, their tones were familiar for 
the right. 

Among this band of patriotic men, who were fighting 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 121 

a battle for the country with perhaps not less heroism 
than that which summoned others to the field, Mr. Dick- 
erson took his place, and from the first hour of his 
coming stood in the front line of the combat. 

In these memories, which come up with their oppres- 
sive sadness while I write, Mr. Dickerson and his heroic 
wife are blended. She not less than he holds her 
place in my admiring memory. She passed away from 
earth before the war closed, worn down by work and 
care at home and abroad, but her memory is green in 
the heart of many a soldier, or widowed soldier's wife, 
to whom she gave her very life. In the hospital, among 
the sick and wounded, she was an angel of mercy, and 
in all the ways in which a true woman can be a benefi- 
cent power she was eminent. Both in him and in her 
were seen frailty of body that yet bore up in untiring 
and unselfish labor to preserve the nation's life and 
minister to its defenders. 

At this distance of time my recollections enable me 
to speak only in the most general way of my friend's 
work. Scenes and incidents, all full of quivering inter- 
est then, have grown dim and faded now. I recall our 
solitary walks in which we mingled our common hopes 
and fears and sympathies, our communings joyous and 
sad in each other's studies, our recreations, when, on our 
skates and with our children, we sought to throw off 
for a little while the weary cares that oppressed us as 
the war went on. 

Mr. Dickerson was active and energetic in every 
labor that the exigencies of the time demanded. I 
find his name on calls, for public meetings in the church 
in which I was pastor, and his voice there and every- 
where gave no uncertain sound, while his facile pen was 
readv with words of hope or warning. 



122 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

The times were not the easy-going times of peace. 
There, within almost the sound of the battle - field, 
everything took the cast of the excitement which was 
abroad. We lay down at night with the probability that 
before the dawn rebel cavalry would be in our streets, 
for we knew that the powder mills three miles away 
would naturally draw the attention of the enemy. The 
lines between man and man were sharply drawn, old 
friendships were cast aside and companionships aban- 
doned as men took either side, for or against the govern- 
ment. So, while those who stood for it were drawn by 
peculiar ties more closely, those who hated it were 
ranged against them in a hostility that needed only an 
opportunity to culminate in violence and death. It was 
not strange that such a man as Dr. Dickerson should be 
cordially hated by the enemies of the country, and he 
took willingly and joyfully the enmity which was sure 
to follow patriotism as out-spoken and energetic as his. 

Devoted husband and father as he was, and with much 
to occupy both head and heart and hands at home, he 
was ready with help for the sick and wounded at his 
door and ready to go abroad also for this work. I 
remember him as we met in the streets of Fredericks- 
burg, he in the service of the Christian, I in that of the 
Sanitary, Commission, and I knew that with his ready 
hand and glowing heart he was shunning no labor in 
that scene of sufferina-. 

I have before me now an editorial from one of the 
papers of Wilmington, giving then, as they are now, 
my heartfelt convictions regarding the man and his 
work in Wilmington : 

" In the community Mr. Dickerson has made for 
himself an abiding impression. With others, here 
before him, he has been from the first intensely 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 123 

loyal, never fearing to speak or act when anything 
could be said or done to aid the cause of the 
country. He has given no doubtful utterances in rela- 
tion to slavery or the rights of the black man. On all 
public occasions he has identified himself with those 
who were foremost in patriotic efforts to crush the 
rebellion, not hesitating to throw the whole weight of 
his influence, and in every way, against treason open or 
covert. It must be a satisfaction that he goes away " 
(the article was written just as Mr. Dickerson was 
leaving Wilmington) " at a time when the labors of 
these years of anxieties are crowned with such glorious 
success. 

" Having endeared himself to a very large circle of 
friends outside his congregation, he bears with him their 
fervent wishes for his prosperity and success, and leaves 
behind him only pleasant recollections of a genial, open- 
hearted, earnest, and able man." — Delaware Republican, 
May 8, 1865. 

And what I wrote for the public is a verv cold and 
formal expression of the abiding admiration and affec- 
tion with which my friend was enshrined in my heart. 
I shall hold him forever in memory as he was, in the 
bright joyousness of his spirit, the high nobility of his 
soul, when we walked and worked together, and re- 
joiced in homes and companionships which were like 
the joys and environments of heaven. 

In a letter received from one of the members of 
the church in Wilmington, the writer says: "All 
my recollections of Dr. Dickerson, as pastor, 
brother, and friend, are pleasant ; and none more 
so among the memories of those on earth, or of those 
that with him have gone to the joys of a better world. 



124 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

I look back upon the five years that he was our pastor 
as the best years of my life ; when I did more efficient 
service for the Master, under the guidance of Dr. 
Dickerson, than ever before or since. * * * Our 
church had been retrograding for two years, both 
spiritually and financially, when he came to Wil- 
mington ; but from that time everything moved on 
more hopefully in all respects. The congregation 
and Sunday school increased in numbers, and we 
had one great revival while he was with us. During 
the five years over three hundred persons united 
with the church by baptism. The first year he 
was with us the pew-rents increased nearly a 
thousand dollars, the church was united and har- 
monious, and Dr. Dickerson was looked upon as a 
leader in every good thing. * * * I have seen 
him under many different circumstances, and he 
always had the love and respect of those by whom 
he was surrounded. He was sought for to speak to 
all the Sunday schools in the city, and wherever he 
went he received a most hearty welcome. Every- 
where he was a friend and a true helper. What he 
did for the country can hardly be realized, except to 
those who lived here, and knew the value of his 
services. 

" Was there a victory for our army ? we were sure 
of loyal inspiring words from one who was in 
sympathy with it. When there was a defeat, and 
some one was looked for to discover a bright side 
and cheer us, Dr. Dickerson was always the one 
called for. At the bedside of the sick, or in the 
house of mourning, he ever brought words of cheer 



RESIDENCE IX WILMINGTON. 125 

and comfort ! As chaplain of the Fifth Del. Reg't., 
of which I was a member, he was a most faithful 
man in his place ; w r as with us at Fort Delaware, 
while guarding the prisoners, and every one felt they 
had in him a true friend. Several of our number 
died from exposure ; one a young man whose 
parents were members of the Society of Friends. 
Although it was never their custom to have anyone 
speak at the funeral service, Dr. Dickerson was 
asked to attend, and w^as told that if he felt inclined 
to say anything there would be no objection to it 
whatever. Such an innovation made quite a stir ; 
but was most acceptable to all. 

" One incident during his pastorate here will ever 
be remembered by those who witnessed it. It was 
the giving of the hand of fellowship one Sabbath 
morning, to more than a hundred recent converts. 
They were ranged all around the church, and I 
thought, ' Surely the pastor can not have a word for 
each one this time.' (He was always so happy in 
his reception of members ; having a most appropriate 
word for each.) But he stood on the platform and 
they moved slowly by, while he took the hand of 
each, and said something which was adapted to each 
case. It was a wonderfully tender scene. * * * 
Some of his sermons we shall never forget. He had 
unusual talents for a public speaker, and was so true 
and devoted a Christian that his sermons had a 
powerful influence ; and in the prayer-meetings I 
have never seen his equal." 

From a letter received from another member of 
the same church, who did much active service for 



126 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

the country in hospitals at the front during the war, 
we quote a few paragraphs. She speaks of his work 
for the church in the same general way as in the 
letter above quoted, and then says : — " Dr. Dickerson 
was earnest and active in the temperance cause ; 
often lecturing on this subject to large and apprecia- 
tive audiences, over whom his eloquence had 
wonderful power. He was also an Anti-Slavery 
man ; always ready to plead the cause of the poor 
and oppressed. When Fort Sumter was attacked 
it was feared that Delaware would secede with the 
other Slave States ; for our senators were secession- 
ists, and tried to have our legislature unite with the 
South ; but most of the ministers of every denom- 
ination were faithful to their country, and I have no 
doubt that their earnest pleadings and labors saved 
our State from rebellion. Among these none were 
more loyal, no one so brave as the pastor of the 
Second Bantist Church of Wilmington, Delaware. 
He was true and firm to the end ; regardless of 
friend or foe. And it was not all talk with him — 
he acted his sentiments. He went down to the 
front, during that most horrible of battles, the 
' Battle of the Wilderness,' and worked as few men 
did. I met him at Fredericksburg. He was among 
the faithful. And he was not one to offer merely 
spiritual consolation, where there was so much 
bodily suffering. He helped to prepare nourishment 
for the sick and wounded, to dress their wounds, 
and to minister to their comfort in many ways. I 
recall to-day how untiringly he would stir in the 
farina to the large kettles as I poured it in, pound 



RESIDENCE IN WILMINGTON. 127 

after pound. Although not strong, nor able to 
endure hardships, there were few men that worked 
so hard as he did, and none harder. * * * He 
left Wilmington the 3-ear the war ended, with the 
regret and sorrow of hundreds besides those in his 
large church and congregation." 



CHAPTER IX. 

LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 

Mr. Dickerson's pastorate in Wilmington con- 
tinued five years — years of faithful and almost 
unceasing toil, alike for his country and for the 
church. That his intense patriotism had not 
swallowed up his piety, or diminished his spiritual 
fervor, there are abundant attestations. During the 
last year of his pastorate, especially, there was a 
very powerful revival in his church, prepared for 
by his faithful labors, but occurring largely in 
connection with the co-operation of Rev. Jacob 
Knapp, who aided him during six or eight weeks of 
the Winter of 1864-5. The number of converts 
was very large, and over two hundred persons, I 
think, were added as members to Mr. Dickerson's 
church, while several other churches received 
considerable additions as the fruit of this revival. 
During Mr. Dickerson's entire ministry here, the 
accessions to his church were over three hundred. 

Regarding this last work, Elder Knapp repeatedly 
declared, that he had never labored more happily, 
nor received from any pastor more cordial and 
sympathetic co-operation than from Mr. Dickerson. 
It will be remembered that Mr. Dickerson received 
his first decided impulses to a Christian life under 

138 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 129 

the preaching of this distinguished evangelist, and it 
was most natural that his heart should ever turn 
toward him with interest and affection. The last 
letter which Mr. Knapp ever wrote was written to 
Mr. Dickerson, in reply to one of sympathy from 
him, after hearing of his severe illness. We give 
this letter, in the belief that it will be of interest to 
many of our readers. 

Rockford, Feb. 25, 1874. 

My Dear Brother Dickersox : How delighted I 
should be to be associated with you in another glorious 
revival ; but that I never expect until we pass over 
Jordan, and then there will be no fatigue, no souls to 
convert, no backsliders to reclaim, but an eternal day, 
when we shall reap the fruits of our labors here. 

I think I am standing on the shore, and often exclaim: 
" O, come, ye white-winged angels, and convey me away 
to my eternal home." I should be happy to write you a 
good, long paternal letter, but I am not able. I can 
only write a few minutes at a time. My lungs, throat, 
and head are inflamed, and all I have been able to do 
has yet failed to remove the difficulty. Last Summer 
I almost recovered, and preached several Sabbaths with 
ease to myself and comfort to others. But I then took 
a sudden cold which has brought me down worse than 
ever. I am pained exceedingly for breath, and can do 
nothing at all. It is with difficulty that I can ask a 
blessing at the table. Still my doctor thinks if I can 
get along until warm weather I may be restored again 
to health. I will remember you, and your family and 
church in my feeble prayers, and beg yours for me and 
mine. The religious papers have been as silent as 
death about my condition. I have been excluded from 



130 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 

the house of God most of the time for two years, bal- 
ancing between life and death, and yet scarcely an 
allusion has been made to it : no prayers requested for 
me. One or two Boston papers have given me a kind 
remembrance and some political papers. O, how worth- 
less and unstable is the applause of men ! When we 
are leading on God's sacramental host from victory to 
victory, shaking cities, convulsing continents, and 
scarcely in need of sympathy, we are exalted to 
Heaven; but when worn out with hundreds of successful 
campaigns, standing on the verge of eternity, in great 
pain and solicitude, we are passed by as a worthless 
thing. I thank God for the great change which He 
has brought about in my day, no matter whether by me 
or somebody else. He has done all the work, and to 
Him be all the glory. I feel as I am nearing the eternal 
world, that God is all and in all, and I am nothing. 
1 see more to regret in my past history than ever before, 
and nothing in which to o-lorv cave the cross of Christ. 
Give my love to your dear wife and children, and to all 
the brethren and sisters in Boston. I am tired out and 
must bid you good by. Jacob Kxapp. 

P. S. All my family remember you with affection. 

This letter — the last of Mr. Knapp's letters — 
was written a day or two before his death. His 
daughter accompanied it with one describing her 
father's peaceful death, and stating how much com- 
fort he had received from Mr. Dickerson's kind 
words of remembrance. Such acts were character- 
istic of him. Alike to the near and the distant who 
were in suffering, he was constantly giving tokens 
of his unforgetting sympathy. 

The time was now rapidly drawing near that was 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 131 

to close Mr. Dickerson's labors with the church in 
Wilmington. He had received, in February, 1865, 
just before the coming of Elder Knapp to Wilming- 
ton, an invitation to preach for the First Baptist 
Church in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He accepted 
the invitation, and his sermons were so well received 
that, in a short time, he received from this large, 
important, wealthy, and flourishing church a unan- 
imous call to become their pastor. During the 
revival which followed the coming of Elder Knapp, 
his acceptance of it was necessarily delayed. He 
was, however, seriously contemplating its acceptance, 
and in March he wrote to one of the members in 
Pittsburgh with whom he had had some correspond- 
ence, a letter, from which the following extracts will 
show at once his own state of mind, and the con- 
dition of his flock in Wilmington. 

I little thought when I left you a few weeks ago that 
before the first of April. I should have the precious 
privilege -of baptising over a hundred persons into the 
fellowship of my church. Every day has brought its 
labors, its anxieties, and its triumphs; and as it has been 
at times impossible to drive either the people of God, 
or rejoicing converts, or pleading, broken-hearted sin- 
ners away from the place of prayer, our meetings have 
continued very late, and it has sometimes been twelve 
o'clock before I could lay my poor, worn-out body down 
to sleep. Elder Knapp has, however, done all the 
preaching; while the exhortation, singing, talking, etc., 
etc., has been fully enough to wear upon my strength. 

From this you see that with services every day and 
evening, and other duties outside, I have been able only 



132 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

to think, pray, and almost \veej3, with regard to Pitts- 
burgh. Headed by Elder Knapp the friends here are 
unanimous that I ought not to think of going, that I abso- 
lutely canH go ! Salary shall be made up to $2,000, and 
new support and sympathy are proffered, while the outside 
community threaten to turn a spring freshet into Pitts- 
burgh for daring to call the Baptist dominie away from 
Delaware. In fact, my dear brother, it would have 
been a great relief to me if you or brother R. could 
have happened in to consult with me, and give Pitts- 
burgh a fair chance. Some of my members saw in the 
National Baptist of last week that I had received the 
call, and on Sunday I told them from the jDulpit that T 
was considering the question, and asked them to pray 
that we might all be rightly directed. Were con- 
venience or even the question of salary to turn the case, 
$2,000 here would be much better than the same amount 
at Pittsburgh; but I want to settle the case on other and 
far higher considerations, and I am willing to trust all 
my pecuniary affairs with my friends in either church. 
* * * I find my mind leaning toward Pittsburgh, but 
I have not as }^et gained the consent of my judgment 
to say " yes " to your call. 1 am getting myself in 
readiness to go, provided that should seem to be the will 
of God. * * * I am rejoiced that you have " put 
your hands to the plow," and sealed the bargain for the 
church lots. May God's blessing attend you at every 
step. Put your laborers right to work, and get under 
weigh at once. Every day lost is one day longer to 
wait for the happy hour when you can present your new 
edifice as an offering to God, and as an altar where 
sorrowing souls may taste His grace ! Oh, may your 
new edifice be filled with the glory of God, and become 
the very " gate of Heaven " to many wandering ones ! 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 133 

I am a little at a loss as to going to the anniversaries at 
St. Louis in May. I am a member of the Executive 
Committee of the Board of the Missionary Union, and 
ought to be there, but really I do not see how I can go, 
as I am now fixed. Give my kindest regards to all your 
friends, and especially to your good wife and family. 
May God's blessings abide with you, and may salvation 
come to your house, my dear brother, and may all your 
family be of the household of faith. 

Affectionately yours, 

James S. Dickersox. 

A few weeks after this he came to the decision 
that it was his duty to accept the call to -the 
Pittsburgh church, and he wrote accordingly the 
following letter : 

Wilmington, April 12, 1865. 

Messrs. Eyersox, Strickler, and Stephexsox, 

Committee of First Baptist Church, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Dear Brethrex : After careful and prayerful con- 
sideration of all the circumstances involved in your 
invitation to the pastorate of the First Baptist Church, 
Pittsburgh, I have arrived at the conclusion that it is 
my duty to accept your call. You will therefore convey 
to the church my acceptance, and urge them to renewed 
prayer that the Great Head of the Church may set the 
seal of His approval upon their choice, and upon my 
decision. 

While I leave behind me a united, prosperous, and 
affectionate church, I go to my new field of labor with 
large hopes for the Divine presence and blessing, and 
with great confidence that I shall receive the sympathies 
and hearty co-operation of all the members of my 
new church. 



134 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

O, that coming years of happy, prosperous, vigorous 
growth on the part of your dear church, and larger 
measures of usefulness in the work of God by both 
pastor and people may attest the true wisdom of what is 
now consummated ! That grace, mercy, and peace from 
God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
Communion of the Holy Spirit may abide with you all 
forever, is the earnest and sincere prayer of your 
Affectionate friend and brother in Christ, 

James S. Dickeesox. 

Mr. Dickerson did not leave Wilmington until 
after the first Sabbath in May, and was permitted 
to receive into the church on that Sabbath, multi- 
tudes of happy believers. Among the number then 
baptised and received was his wife, who had hitherto 
remained in the Episcopal communion, although for 
some time a Baptist in belief, and attending regularly 
with her husband the ordinary services of the 
church. With her, too, he baptised his eldest son, 
then twelve years of age, and his daughter Ada, 
whom, as for many years the afflicted lamb of his 
household flock, he saw with peculiar pleasure 
gathered into the fold of the Heavenly Shepherd. 
On that Sabbath they all sat down together — along 
with the large congregation of believers — for the 
first time ; and no earthly eye could foresee, and no 
earthly heart could divine, that it was for the last. 
He could not know and did not dream that she, who 
had been for so many years the light of his home, and 
the joy of his heart, and whom he had just now 
welcomed into a more perfect Christian union, would, 
on the morning of another Sabbath, be lying on her 



LAST YEAR IX WILMINGTON. 135 

dying bed ; and that, on the day after, he would be 
gathering his motherless children — too young fully 
to appreciate their loss — about her grave. And if 
he had known it, though it would have lent to the 
present festive scene an indescribable pathos, yet 
faith would have looked through the agony of the 
parting, and the darkness of the tomb, to the 
triumphant awakening, the glad reunion, and the 
eternal life beyond. Thus bright is the heavenly 
hope that irradiates the dark river of life, and the 
scarcely darker river of death, towards which is its 
sure and steady course. 

But now the messenger of fate, though near, was 
unseen and unsuspected, and nothing clouded the 
gladness of the occasion but the general sorrow 
over the loss of the pastor, whom all so thoroughly 
esteemed, and so warmly loved. Mr. Dickerson was 
not the man to be five years in any community with- 
out binding many hearts to him with the strongest 
ties of affection. A character naturally loveable had 
been touched into higher beauty by grace, so that 
esteem, based on the most thorough confidence in 
his moral integrity, was blended with the attachment 
which his winning ways uniformly inspired. The 
church was crowded to overflowing to hear his 
farewell sermon, and witness the reception of the 
large number of converts. In the afternoon a large 
assembly gathered again at the Sunday school anni- 
versary, where beautiful presents were given, both 
to the Pastor and his wife, as tokens of the love 
alike of teachers and pupils. Mrs. Dickerson had 
for a long time taken charge of the infant class, and, 



136 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

being a good musician, had assisted greatly in the 
church music, both vocal and instrumental. She 
was a woman of much natural humor, generally of 
great vivacity of spirits, and was universally loved, 
both by young and old. Having for some time been 
a Baptist in her general convictions, and satisfied 
that she could aid her husband more effectually by 
a closer union in the church, she determined to take 
the step before her husband entered his new field of 
labor. That anticipated field of labor she did not 
live to see. 

In regard to the Sabbath school celebration, we 
make from the Delaware Journal and Statesman, 
May 12th, the following extracts : 

Washington Jones, Esq., read his report, which 
showed that the school had made laro-e accessions to its 
number during the year, and that many of the pupils 
have professed religion and connected themselves with 
the church. Then follows a full report, after which the 
superintendent addressed the pastor in these words: 

" My Dear Brother axd Pastor: I should be doing 
injustice to myself, as the superintendent of the school 
and an officer of the church, if I should allow the 
present opportunity to pass without an expression of 
our feelings towards you. We renewedlv tender to vou 

O ml v v 

our warmest affection and sympathy, and our assurance 
of entire confidence in you as a minister of the Lord 
Jesus Christ. You have ever faithfully and earnestly 
declared the truths of the blessed Gospel, without the 
favor or fear of man, and have not failed to preach 
against sin in high places as well as low, nor to denounce 
treason and slavery, as well as other vices. We rejoice 
in God to-day that that noble flag, draped on this altar, 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 1ST 

has never been dishonored in this pulpit, but has been 
defended with a veneration as strong as the love of life 
itself. * * * You came to us, my brother, about 
five years ago with fear and trembling, lest your health 
might not bear you out in the discharge of your onerous 
duties; but God has abundantly blessed you, and set 
the seal of his approval on your labors, by permitting 
you to receive into the church about three hundred 
members during your pastorate. My brother, we shall 
miss you from this pulpit where we have so often 
listened to you with profit - and pleasure; we shall miss 
you at the desk below, where we so often gathered at 
the lecture and for social prayer and conference; and in 
the Sabbath schools, O, how much we shall miss your 
pleasant countenance, your words of hope and encour- 
agement to the teachers, vour entertainincr and instruc- 
tive addresses to the children, and your aid to the 
superintendent. And last, but not least, we shall miss 
your social visits to our families, which were always of 
the most pleasant character. In conclusion allow me to 
say that the prayers of the church will ascend to the 
throne of Grace, invoking the richest of God's blessings 
upon you and your dear family, and praying that He 
may make you even more happy and useful in your new 
field of labor, than you have been in the one you are 
leaving." 

The Rev. Mr. Aikman then followed with some 
remarks, referring in pleasing terms to the labors of 
Rev. Mr. Dickerson, both as a minister of the gospel 
and a citizen, and expressed great regret at the loss the 
community will sustain in his removal from our city. 

At the conclusion of the exercises the teachers and 
scholars thronged around the Rev. Mr. Dickerson to 
take leave of him, and the tears which gushed from 
6* 



138 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

many an eye, testified the deep hold he has upon the 
affections of those to whom he has ministered in spirit- 
ual things, during the past five years. He has labored 
in the cause of Christianity and education with a zeal 
worthy of the cause. The soldier has ever found in 
him a constant and steadfast friend, and whether in the 
camp or hospital, or far away on the field of strife, he 
was ever ready to lend a helping hand to mitigate his 
sorrows or relieve his wants. To his agency our brave 
volunteers are indebted for many comforts which served 
to render them happy even amidst the toils and the 
cares of the tented field. May his future life be 
attended with prosperity and happiness, and in the new 
field of his labors, may he meet with abundant reward. 

From the Delaware Republican of May 11th, which 
gave an account of the farewell to the church, we 
quote a few lines: 

In the morning the house was filled to excess, and 
Mr. D. in concluding his sermon referred to the troubles 
of earth, the parting with dear friends, and remarked 
that these things should make us all think of the happy 
meetings in Heaven. " There is not in my heart or 
mind a single feeling of dislike toward anyone, and 
there is not one upon whose head I do not sincerely 
invoke the blessing of God. 5 ' 

On the Wednesday following these farewell ser- 
vices, they started for Philadelphia, purposing to 
spend a single clay and night with their friends, Rev. 
Mr. and Mrs. J. Hyatt Smith, and then immediately 
resume their journey to Pittsburgh. Providence 
ordered it otherwise. Their proposed stay of a clay 
and a night was lengthened into one of several clays 



LAST YEAR IX WILMINGTON. 139 

and nights, and when it was over, Mrs. Dickerson 
had left her husband for her heavenly home, and he, 
leaving his children behind him in Philadelphia, set 
out, bereaved and lonely, for his new destination. 
The blow, unlooked-for as it was, could be traced 
back to some obvious causes. Mrs. Dickerson, a 
few weeks before their proposed removal, had had a 
number of teeth extracted ; from the use of ether 
at that time she had been made ill for several weeks, 
and when sufficiently recovered to be about, she 
naturally overworked in her preparations for the 
coming journey. Though sensible of overworking, 
yet she had uniformly enjoyed so good health, that 
she had no apprehension of serious consequences 
from a few days of unwonted fatigue and care. 
When the strain and excitement were over, however, 
she again became somewhat ill: yet she refused to 
yield to disease, and made herself a cheerful and 
agreeable inmate of the family of one of their deacons. 
On arriving at Philadelphia, her malady returned in 
an aggravated form : and. on the Monday following 
the Wednesday on which they arrived, it ended in her 
death. The following letter, written in June, 1865, 
to the editor of this memoir, gives an account of 
these last sad days. 

My Dear Friend : How much your words of loving 
sympathy tended to comfort and console me, you can 
hardly imagine. 'Tis passing strange and yet terribly 
true, that the very ones whose love and sympathy in 
hours of sorrow make us the most conscious of our 
losses, are the very ones to whom we imploringly look 
for consolation. I find myself groping around, not so 



140 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

much to find and to test my friends, as to gain access to 
the loving hearts that knew and prized my dear, departed 
Julia. To have loved her so as to miss her now, so as to 
have valued all the treasure of her noble qualities of 
heart and mind, and all the wealth of her pure, joyous, 
and unchanging love — this appreciation which makes 
them to feel that my grief is inconsolable — this con- 
soles me. That nothing can or ought to comfort me — 
this is the sweetest comfort that I get, save that which 
is found gushing in its mysterious depths and solitude 
from the heart of Julia's Saviour and mine ; who knew 
her, loved her, saved her for Himself and me, and loves 
us both so much, that infinitely to bless her and me, He 
took her to Himself and Heaven. Though I am very 
desolate and lonely, I am sweetly sustained of God. 
Every hour of the day and every watch of the night 
brings its thoughts of the happy tender past ; every 
box I have unpacked, every book she owned or loved, 
every song she sung — her wedding slippers and her 
bridal dress, still fresh and unfaded, while my darling 
that wore them is far away ; — her body cold, silent, 
dead, amid the shadows of Laurel Hill; her spirit 
making the atmosphere of Heaven brighter and happier 
by her redeemed smile and voice ; — all this constitutes 
the trial of my situation. What must the joys of the 
heavenly inheritance be, when in the contrast, such 
tremendous sorrows and griefs as these are pronounced 
but " light " afflictions ! If by such sad formulas God 
teaches the soul the depth and power of earthly friend- 
ship, O, what shall be the sway of that pure and power- 
ful passion of the soul, the love of Heaven, towards its 
angels, its recognized friends of earth, and towards the 
infinite, and glorious, and loving God, our Saviour ! 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 141 

Here then indeed, my dear sister in Jesus, we can rest 
satisfied until 

Faith is changed to glad fruition, 
Hope to sight, and prayer to praise. 

Heaven certainly seems nearer, more blessed and 
real than ever before; and no doubt rich blessings to 
myself and others will grow out of this deep and appar- 
ently unmixed calamity. 

On the Wednesday after the first Sabbath in May, we 
all left Wilmington at 4 p.m. In the morning Julia 
seemed as well (save a slight complaint of loss of 
appetite and an inward pain, which neither of us 
thought worthy of any special notice), and as cheerful 
and happy as could be. But just as she reached the 
depot, she seemed to be sinking into lassitude and 
weakness, and, as the cars started, a nervous chill came 
upon her, which however soon abated, and when we 
reached Hyatt Smith's we had the fullest hope that an 
hour or a night of rest would restore her fully. But 
pains, like those of severe rheumatism, inward, and 
through her limbs, racked her all Thursday ; but the 
evening found her better. Friday the pains left her 
limbs, and fell like lightning on her brain. Saturday 
she became unconscious, and so remained until Monday 
night at 11:30, when she sweetly fell on sleep. By the 
side of my dear mother and father, in a bed of spring 
flowers in Laurel Hill, we laid her away on the following 
Thursday. Never was there more genuine heartfelt 
grief than was manifested over her coffin and grave. 
Friends from Wilmington, Xew York, and Philadelphia 
gathered around, and admired her even in death — for 
she looked like an angel dreaming, among beautiful 
flowers, of going home. Spencer and I came hither 



142 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

soon after. My new church welcomed me with that true 
delicacy of tenderness which sings, 

The heart feels most when the lips move not. 

They have said little, but manifested a great deal. 
The three younger children came later in company with 
a sort of maiden aunt (a sister of my brother-in-law's 
brother's first wife — do you get the close relationship ?). 
"Aunt Jane" is a lovely Christian woman; a sweet 
character indeed; gentle, kind, and judicious, and with 
age which has brought her much experience. How long 
I can command her services I hardly dare inquire. She 
comes to help me through. I have thus given you all 
the particulars of the trying scenes through which I 
have passed. They form a strange contrast with the 
joyousness which has reigned in my family circle, when 
you have been one of our number. Let this appeal to 
your sympathies stir you to remember us all in your 
prayers, and from your happier standpoint reflect some 
light, and joy, and comfort on us. 

Your friend and brother, 

James S. Dickersox. 

From the Delaware Hejnibliean of May 22, 1865, 
we quote the following article on the death of Mrs. 
Dickerson : 

Death of Mrs. Dickersox. — The funeral services of 
Mrs. Dickerson, wife of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, late of 
this city, w T ere held in the Eleventh Baptist Church of 
Philadelphia, on Thursday morning. A large number 
of persons from Wilmington were present, to show 
their respect to the memory of the deceased, and their 
sympathy with the bereaved husband- — among them 
Rev. Mr. Wiswall and Rev. Mr. Aikman. Addresses 



LAST YExlR IN WILMINGTON. 143 

were made by the Rev. Mr. Aikman of this city, and 
Rev. Messrs. Jeffrey and J. Hyatt Smith of Phila- 
delphia. The interment was made in the Laurel Hill 
cemetery. 

It is rarely our duty to record a more melancholy 
bereavement than that which is made in the above 
announcement. After a highly successful ministry in 
this city, Mr. Dickerson was removing to Pittsburgh, but 
on the day of his leaving, his wife was taken ill, and 
was conveyed to the house of an intimate friend, where, 
after a rapid and uninterrupted sinking, she died last 
Monday, having been for the most of the time entirely 
unconscious. Before she herself or her friends were 
aware of the fatal nature of the attack, she was beyond 
the reach of relief. We can but inadequately express 
our deep sympathy with our stricken friend, or our high 
appreciation of the character of his devoted wife. It 
does not become us to speak of the lovely traits which 
made her home radiant, and the scene of untiring and 
self-sacrincino; devotion — that belongs to the inner circle 
of those who knew the beneficence of her daily life. 

Mrs. Dickerson has been, during her residence here, 
always among the foremost in every good work in this 
city, especially in everything which concerned the wel- 
fare of our soldiers. As the efficient treasurer of the 
Ladies Aid Society, and always active in its work, she 
will not be soon forgotten. With engrossing family 
cares, and much wearing anxiety, she found time, if not 
strength, to labor beside the most earnest workers, and 
in a spirit of entire self-forgetfulness. Indeed these 
public cares, together with the toil that came upon her 
as a pastor's wife, we have reason to believe were not 
among the least of the causes, which brought her life 
to so sudden a termination. In the church and in the 



144 JAMES S. DTCKERSOX. 

Sunday school she was a very able helper of her hus- 
band, and his late people owe a debt of gratitude to her 
memory. A woman of rare energy, of devoted piety, 
and 'cultivated mind, diffusing blessings wherever she 
moved, she will lono; be remembered bv this community 
where her last days were spent. 

Other papers in Wilmington gave similar accounts 
of her death, and her characteristics. 

We bring to a close our account of Mr. Dickerson's 
residence in Wilmington, by extracts from two or 
three of his letters to Rev. Dr. Aikman. The first 
was written soon after he became pastor in Pitts- 
burgh, in July, 1865. 

Wilmington sometimes seems to have drifted away, 
as though separated by long periods of time, long 
leagues of distance; and your family seem to me to 
dwell under its fair skies, touched by its sunlight, and 
fanned by its fragrant air. And then I, for a moment, 
and my family, my dear Julia, seem with you as close 
neighbors ; both of us interested in all that pertains to 
each other's usefulness and happiness. Our almost boyish 
glee in walking, talking, and skating with each other, 
has a merry, joyous laugh to it, like the shout of inno- 
cent children at play. These memories, even these, so 
mingled with imperfections, and so transient in their 
stay, — even these have features which should, I think, 
remind us of Heaven, where all that is truly noble and 
good in our present social joys will be preserved.; all 
that is ill will be purged away, while that which is par- 
tial and transient will be lifted to the infinite and eternal. 
Then, too, how our capacities for enjoyment will be 
intensified and expanded, while we shall have none for 
sorrow or for sin ! Heaven is bound to be a happy, 



i 



LAST YEAR IN WILMINGTON. 145 

happy place. Thank the Lord that each of us are stock- 
holders, and that we have already accrued interest due 
us there! We are all as well as usual. I am sometimes 
very sad, but my cheerfulness is rallying, and my large 
hope seeing things brighter, and faith knowing what sight 
as yet can not clearly discern. God is daily showing me 
His goodness. Paxson, they tell me, has resigned — 
now if there is any stone that can be turned to get you 
here, let me know it. I'm your boy. I'm in. What 
are you going to do this Summer? I propose to go off 
for a while ; but don't know where, yet. * * * ^J- a y 
God preserve you and your children from afflictions 
which He has found necessary to place upon me. God 
bless you all. I see good brother Alrick and Mr. Dupont 
have gone. So, soon we shall pass away! 

Affectionately Yours, 

James S. Dickersox. 

Another was written during his vacation, when he 
had been expecting Dr. Aikman to join him at a 
Summer resort. He writes : 

I was right glad to hear from you, but disappointed in 
not seeing you. I did want you to come; but that dear, 
sweet wife of yours has the first claim. May you have 
a happy and health-imparting vacation! This is a beau- 
tiful place, but I am lonely without some clear friend to 
commune with ! (Then he speaks of the children, 
where and how they are, and adds:) They are all much 
saddened by their mother's death; but take singularly 
clear and Christian views of their bereavement, and talk 
of their mamma with upturned faces and quiet voices, as 
if they thought her near enough to be pained by any of 
our murmurings or complaints. Ada seems joyful in 
the thought that, more than likely, she will get the first 
7 



146 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

reunion kiss from the lips of the angel mother. As for 
myself, I am getting on slowly. Lack of sleep and a 
dreadful loneliness are my most inveterate enemies. 1 
sleep good naps, if I take them in the day; but the 
moment I go to bed at night — no matter how sleepy — 
the moment I get fixed for sound sleep, I am as wide- 
awake, as full of thought, of mental activity, as I vainly 
wish to be in the daytime. Orations, sermons, stump 
speeches, repartee, are turned oif with amazing facility. 
Then my church, my lost darling, my little motherless 
children, all come in turn; my head throbs, my heart 
beats so as to be heard, and I turn over and over; get 
up: try to change the current of my thought, and then 
going to bed again repeat the same service until two or 
three o'clock in the morning. * * * Yesterday I 
went JisJting, and came back with a fisherman's abun- 
dant rewards in everything save t fish. That we nar- 
rowly escaped. We burnt our faces, blistered our 
hands, tired our arms and backs, to say nothing of 
getting our fundament a honoris quite sore on the hard 
seat of the row-boat. But we had a " gay " time. 1 
getting off magnificent puns, jokes, etc., which some 
of the company, though college boys, didn't see; they 
on the other hand were so obviously witty, that a 
man would be a fool to laugh at their attempts — they 
laughed. * * * How I wanted somebody all day 
long to help me think, talk, see ! I believe you were 
the very chajD. But good-bye, old boy, until we meet 
again. May the favor of Heaven brighten over yours 
and you until at length its finished joys and glories 
shall emparadise us — all of yours, and all of mine, and 
the people of God everywhere and forever. 

Affectionately, your brother and friend, 

James S. Dickeesox. 



CHAPTER X. 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 



Our previous narrative has reached the point of 
Mr. Dickerson's departure from Wilmington, with 
the sudden illness and death of his wife in Phila- 
delphia, when he had started for Pittsburgh. I may 
here, perhaps, return a little upon my steps to 
introduce some specially domestic and personal 
matters. His little daughter Ada, during the year 
now closing (1864), had suffered severely from her 
sore hip ; abscesses frequently gathering and caus- 
ing her intense pain, so that she was obliged to take 
frequent closes of morphia to quiet her. Mr. Dick- 
erson's own health, too, was far from good, His 
throat troubled him somewhat, his appetite was 
poor, and his nights often were nearly sleepless. 
Yet he hid his pains and griefs under a cheerful 
face, and however heavy were the burdens he him- 
self was carrying, would scarcely allow them to 
detract from the happiness of those around him. 
For them he rarely had anything but words and 
looks of cheer and comfort. 

Christmas had always been a happy time in the 
family circle ; the children being generously remem- 
bered by distant friends and often by members of 
his flock, while the father and mother trimmed the 

147 



148 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

merry Christmas tree, and contributed their utmost 
to the festivities of the occasion. But this was a 
year of "war prices:" even the necessary provisions 
were so high that, deprived of his old income from 
the Chronicle it looked as if the customary 
Christmas luxuries must be largely dispensed with. 
The following letter, written some time after to his 
aunt Caroline, wife of James Stokes (the uncle who 
had so often generously aided him), describes this 
Christmas, the last enjoyed together by the family, 
since before another came she who constituted so 
largely the attraction and joy of this had been well- 
nigh " a year in Heaven." The letter was written 
from Pittsburgh where its writer was then settled. 

My Dear Aunt Caroline : We were all both 
gratified and surprised at the appearance of a nice little 
note, and a package from you at Christmas. Accept 
the thanks of a delighted and grateful circle of little 
folks. 

Holiday week was one of hallowed memories to 
me. Pleasant songs were ringing in my ears, but all 
seemed to close with strains of tender and almost mel- 
ancholy sadness. I thought of the many happy times 
when dear Julia bought the toys and helped to trim the 
Christmas tree. And I'll tell you now what, perhaps. 
I never referred to before. Last year — that is, the year 
which closed with Christmas a year ago — had been one 
of the very hardest that dear Julia and I had ever seen 
together. Prices were so high that with all our economy 
we were running behind-hand. As Christmas approached 
things looked rather blue, but we tried to keep cheerful 
hearts and faces. Julia wanted a pair of blankets, but 
I told her to use my traveling shawl, and so she did. 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 149 

She needed some articles for herself, some nice gaiters 
and several little things; but I told her to wait until 
after New Year's, and then we should not have to pay 
for them until our next salary came in. So she waited. 
And we kept wondering whether Uncle James' finances 
would turn out so propitiously as to afford his generous 
present of several years preceding. But it had not 
come, and things looked a little bleak at the parsonage. 
Soon, however, Uncle James' gift came, larger than 
usual ; but I kept it a secret. The Union State Com- 
mittee of the State of Delaware, wrote me a note saying 
that there were in their treasurer's hands 8100, and the 
committee had unanimously voted to present it to me, 
as a token of their appreciation of my services to the 
State and the country. This I kept secret. So on 
Christmas morning we had our tree, a very pretty one, 
trimmed mostly with the previous years' ornaments, 
but, otherwise, our own contributions to the Christmas 
stock were very small. But kind friends remembered 
the children, and when Julia examined the presents, I 
had bought her a nice pair of blankets, a beautiful pair 
of gaiters, and several other articles she wanted. In 
the toe of the gaiters were the letters and presents from 
your dear husband, and the Delaware Committee. The 
surprise was complete, and we laughed and cried 
together. It made, indeed, a very " merrie Christmas," 
and ushered in a Happy New Year. 

My dear aunt, I do sincerely thank you and uncle for 
all your acts of kindness, and all your thoughts of love 
to Julia, to me, and the children. My poverty is volun- 
tary and for Christ's sake. Three times have I declined 
very eligible positions of profit, and twice have I been 
offered a handsome interest in a large and prosperous 
business. But I am happy, contented now, and should 



150 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

be very unhappy out of the ministry. I sometimes cry 
for joy when I realize that I am a minister of Christ — 
honored of Him, approved of Him. I feel at times very 
lonely, and, when not just well, I feel discouraged. 
The terrible loss of Julia, while I know it was in 
infinite wisdom and unbounded love that she was taken 
away from her children and from me, has a depressing 
influence upon me. But I always strive to be, or at 
least to seem, cheerful. My surroundings here — all but 
the smoke and soot — are very pleasant. My church are 
united in me, and are, in general, a kind, thoughtful, 
and liberal people. * * * Our new chapel will be 
done in the Summer; the main edifice, we hope, the fol- 
lowing Spring. The whole affair will be fine but not 
fantastic. Our congregations are increasing, and are 
more than double what they were when I came. Several 
have been recently baptized; some are ready for the 
ordinance, and others are serious. Do pray that God 
may greatly bless my labors here. The children are 
about as usual. Ada has had one of her poor turns, 
but is now better. She and Lulu are making good 
progress in music, and the latter is going to be quite an 
adept at the piano. The two boys are well. Give my 
love to Uncle James. His kindness and love toward 
my dear family have embalmed his memory in my heart. 
Give my love also to each of the dear children at home 
and abroad. 

God bless and keep you, and reward your life and 
labor of love to many whom you have helped to make 
happy, of whom, perhaps, I am chief. 
Affectionately, 

James S. Dickerson. 

This letter is one among the numberless illus- 
trations of his unfailing resources of buoyancy and 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 151 

brightness of temper ; how he was cheerful where 
others were despondent, and hopeful where others 
would be despairing. 

The course of the narrative has now reached a 
point where reference to herself personally, in view 
of relations subsequently formed, has become a 
necessity to the author of this memoir. The reader 
will appreciate the delicacy of this part of the 
writer's duty, and will pardon the detail which 
could not well be omitted in the history of a life 
with which her own became so closely and tenderly 
united. 

Mr. Dickerson's second wife was the daughter of 
Professor J. F. Richardson, who filled the chair of 
Latin in the Hamilton Literary and Theological 
Seminary, subsequently Madison University ; also, 
in his later life, the same professorship in the Uni- 
versity of .Rochester. She was born in 1842, the 
year in which Mr. Dickerson went as a student to 
Hamilton. He had known her, therefore, as a very 
little girl ; while, naturally, she retained no recollec- 
tion of him. They did not meet, after that, until 
1862, when she was teaching in Dover, the capital 
of Delaware, whither she had gone, a total stranger 
in the State, as instructress in a ladies' school. Mr. 
Dickerson, happening to be in Rochester in the Fall, 
called upon his old Hamilton instructors, and among 
them upon Professor Richardson, who had then 
resided twelve years in Rochester. Learning that 
the little girl whom he remembered having tossed in 
his arms at Hamilton, had now reached the dignity 
of a Delaware school-mistress, he said that, as he 



152 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

was soon to be in Dover, at the meeting of an asso- 
ciation, he would call upon her. He was prevented, 
however, from coming, and about Christmas time, 
sent the following letter : 

Wilmington, Del., Dec. 19, 1862. 

Miss Emma Richardson — My Dear Sister: It has 
been for several weeks my intention to make a visit to 
Dover, if possible, that 1 might renew a very pleasant 
acquaintance, made with a shy little girl of your name, 
twenty years ago. I have thus far been prevented from 
realizing this desire. But " as the mountain would not 
come to Mahomet, so Mahomet must needs go to the 
mountain," and it has occurred to my wife and me, that 
your present few days of vacation (I suppose you have 
one at holiday time) might be pleasantly spent with us at 
Wilmington. If you can make it convenient, we shall 
be very much pleased to have you spend the week at 
our house. If you will let me know the day and train 
on which you leave, we will meet you at the cars. 
With many wishes for your success and happiness, and 
hoping soon to greet you at our ^ parsonage," 
Very truly your friend, 

James S. Dickersox. 

P. S. : — Should any other time suit you better, we shall 
be glad to have you accommodate yourself. You will 
always be welcome. 

The invitation was accepted, and the time stated 
at which the person so invited would reach Wilming- 
ton. It was natural that there should be some 
perplexity of mind in considering how, under such 
circumstances, a mutual recognition would be possi- 
ble. The woman whom Mr. Dickerson was to meet, 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 153 

could scarcely offer much resemblance to the child 
of six years, whom he had known in Hamilton. 
To her, on the other hand, he had simply been 
described as a neatly-dressed, dapper little fellow, 
with a handsome face and with very curly hair. 
She, of course, was in expectation, simply, of meet- 
ing one who should answer to this description. On 
arriving at Wilmington she took her seat in the 
waiting-room, and began to scan the comers -in. 
Soon a young and handsome gentleman made his 
appearance, who seemed so evidently the original of 
the picture in her mind, that she at once said to 
herself, " That is, certainly, Mr. Dickerson." He 
stood near the entrance, looked all about the room 
inquiringly, and then, with a disappointed air, slowly 
walked out. " He will be back again, soon," was her 
thought; and so he was. He came, this time, to the 
center of the room, took his position there, and 
slowly scanned every person sitting in the seats on 
three sides of it. As it came her turn to be 
inspected, she saw that his eye rested a moment, 
and he looked as if he were saying : " It must be, 
but it can't be she !" She looked directly at him ; 
he came toward her, touched his hat, and in the 
most polite manner, said : " Madam, are you from 
Dover?" u Are you Mr. Dickerson?" was the 
reply. He immediately extended his hand, a-nd with 
a most cordial look and grasp, said, " Well, Emma, 
I suppose you did not expect to see such a little 
man as I am, and I am sure I did not expect to see 
such a great woman as you are/* 

These details of our introduction may be allowed 



154 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

here. The indulgent reader will permit them to 
one who is in subsequent pages to record incidents 
of a relation, so happy and endearing, into which 
she was led by the hand of a kind Providence — a 
relation which, while it has involved painful and 
solemn duties, has abundantly counterbalanced them 
hj joys which, to the end of life, will be a store- 
house of happy memories. The writer soon found 
herself very much at home at the parsonage. Julia 
and herself were ever after, during the brief 
remaining life of the former, close friends and cor- 
respondents. 

Adopting, now, the first person in speaking of 
these events, I may mention that I had been visiting 
in Philadelphia during the Winter that Mr. Knapp 
preached for Mr. Dickerson, and spent the week 
previous to his coming, with Julia, while her husband 
was in Pittsburgh. He returned home on Saturday 
evening, and I left on Monday morning for New 
York. Late on that Saturday evening, after the chil- 
dren were ail asleep, we three sat and talked together 
about Pittsburgh. As my opinion was asked on many 
subjects relating to the removal thither, I made 
several suggestions, adding the familiar language, 
"If I were in your place, I should do so and so in 
your new house. 5 ' How little did I dream that I 
actually tvas, in the Providence of God, to take 
Julia's place in that Pittsburgh home, and that I was 
planning for myself instead of for her. When, on 
the following Monday morning, I bade her good-bye, 
it was under a promise that she would come in the 
Summer, with Ada and her husband, and visit us in 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 155 

Rochester ; but the visit was not made, and I saw 
her no more. She had gone, ere the Summer, to 
her new but Heavenly home. 

I here make some extracts from letters received 
during the few years of my acquaintance with Julia. 
I sent her at one time a handsome velvet pincushion, 
with a silk-lined slipper upon it, and as she was in 
New York with Ada when the gift and letter 
arrived, Mr. Dickerson answered it for her. Here 
is the letter : 

Wilmixgtox, April 22, 1864. 

My Dear Emma : Your beautiful present, and long, 
good letter, came duly to hand. Mrs. D. was away, but 
that does not make the slightest difference, ./"read the 
letter, every word of it, and appreciated it, and am now 
answering it. My wife always leaves home with the 
idea that everything will go "by sixes and sevens," in 
her absence, but I think I can " run the machine," and 
answer letters to young ladies, just as well as she 
can. x\nd, in fact, if I have received anything like 
correct information on the subject, the ladies like to 
have me do it. There may be a breeze, however, when 
Mrs. D. comes home. She has been gone two weeks, 
and Spencer and I are alone; Martha, the colored cook, 
being all our society. I am managing affairs splendidly, 
and Martha and Spencer seem to be the only dissatisfied 
persons about the entire establishment. Spencer thinks 
that " hash " and roast apples three times a day for two 
weeks, is not as great a variety as they have at the St. 
Nicholas; and Martha is full of odious comparisons if I 
happen to over-sleep in the morning, or forget to send 
home any apples or meat. And for the inadvertence of 
leaving the cellar without coal for a couple of days, I have 



156 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

been treated by her with very dark looks, and a general 
coldness. But I think our domestic arrangements are 
quite serene, and if my wife expects that everything is 
going to be knocked into "jpf" (Spencer would rejoice 
at such a consummation, if they were of the right type) 
while she is gone, she will be profoundly mistaken. 
Still I do not think house-keeping is exactly my forte, 
yet I never yield that I can't take care of things when 
Mrs. D. is away, although I have been convinced of it 
for years. 

With this " Apology for Letters," I will enter more 
at large and formally upon a reply to your welcome 
favor of the 13th inst. It was quite in accordance with 
a custom of great antiquity, that you should throw a 
shoe after my wife, as a sort of God-speed on her jour- 
neyings and visit to that great and wicked city, New 
York. The only mystery is that it should have fallen so 
gracefully and securely on the elegant cushion. But, as 
the mystery is with you, and the beautiful facts are with 
us (locked up in my wife's lower drawer, with her crape 
shawl and other valuables too nice for the common eye), 
we should not be over curious. Accept my thanks, and 
my good Julia's thanks, too, for a gift which so nicely 
memorializes your good taste, and your love to us. Julia, 
I know, will assert her independence, and write you 
a letter of acknowledgement in her own name, and 
expressing, more happily than I can do for her, all her 
appreciation of your thoughtful kindness. Her princi- 
pal object in going to New York, was to consult with 
the best doctors in regard to Ada. I think from all she 
says in her letters, that a severe and rather dangerous 
operation will be recommended, to take place next Fall. 
This, of course, will never relieve Ada's lameness, but 
perhaps stop the further progress of the disease — a 
decay of the hip bone. 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 157 

We are all in usual health, save the present " presiding 
elder " of the domestic institution of 909 Market Street. 
His principal trouble is the sleeps, which take him at all 
hours of the day, but are never dangerous at night. In 
other words, I am a little bit run down, and w^ant rest 
from care and brain work of any kind. My sympathetic 
nature is drawn upon too much in all my professional 
work, simply because it is natural to me ; and second, 
because 1 am not in vigorous health just now. If the 
way opens, I am resolved upon a trip over the water ! 
So Hattie's married ! May bright and Heavenly bles- 
sings attend her ! When I first saw her, she was a shy 
little roll of pretty calico, with a modest little face at 
the top, and a nimble pair of feet as motors. She and a 
very pleasant little sister, used to play under a magnifi- 
cent and wide-spreading tree, in front of a white house 
with green blinds, in Hamilton. 

Pleasant days those to us all. Hard and poorly remu- 
nerated days to that father and mother of yours, Emma, 
but happy, I know, even to them. To me, those were 
my brightest, happiest hours. And although there 
hangs (to me, and I dare say to you) a cloud over 
Hamilton's later history, so far as pertains to the joy and 
brightness which once reigned there, yet my Hamilton 
course dwells in my memory like the sweet fragments 
of some delightful music not altogether forgotten. 
And the friends of Hamilton are the ones I love to-day. 
Aside from its greatness as a glorious denominational 
enterprise, which has ever challenged my respect, and 
received my heartiest co-operation, what I love most at 
Rochester is what was transplanted there from Hamilton. 
Of course Dr. Anderson's family have peculiar ties in 
my heart. But I must close (without wanting to). In 
church matters we are rather at a standstill ; very good 



158 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

congregations, but few coming to " the Fountain of Life." 
I am not enjoying the same freedom in my pulpit work, 
as I do when converts are multiplying. I long for a time 
of refreshment, for myself and my people. Oh, what a 
glorious work preaching is, when sowing and reaping is 
all done at once ! Give my love to father, mother, and 
the children generally ; accepting a generous allowance 
as your share. May God's blessing be with you all. 
Affectionately yours, 

James S. Dickerson. 

We give below a letter from Mrs. Dickerson, in 
which reference is made to her husband's work for 
the State, and in the hospitals ; and which, in many 
respects, is a characteristic one : 

Wilmingtox, Friday, June 25th. 

My Dear Emma : I wonder what you think of me ? 
I know it is really shabby of me not to write sooner ; but 
really I did intend to, only somehow the intention was 
not enough. I have thought of you so often, and wished 
I could expect you here again. I hope you may be 
fixed so as to be near here another season. 

Of course I have been very busy! Am 1 not always? 
If J did not have stockings to mend, and, equally 
important, babies to look after, I should go off as a 
foreign missionary, and make myself famous. * * * 
1 am regularly installed now as organist, director-in-chief 
of music, etc., etc. ! ! * * * Mr. Dickerson preached 
at the Hospital two weeks ago, and had family prayers 
there twice on Tuesday and Friday. The city ministers 
are to take turns holding services there. A short time 
ago Mr. Dickerson went to Chicago, and while he was 
gone I went to house cleaning, and was nearly through 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 159 

when he came home. You can imagine I was busy 
then. Bridget took it into her head to get sick one 
Saturday, and I had all the baking, cooking, and work 
to do for three days, and Mr. Dickerson sick all the time. 

0, but I was tired ! We had a most delightful visit 
over at Mrs. L's the other day, when they fairly stuffed 
us with strawberries and cream, and sent us some three 
different times besides, and splendid ones, too. M. spoke 
of you, and wished you were there with us, and so did 

1, for I knew you would have enjoyed it. Delaware is 
now well represented in the army. The last send-off 
was rather a joke ; a sorry joke for some, too. The 5th 
Delaware, of which my respected partner is chaplain 
(the glory may be great, but the pay is small), was 
suddenly ordered off to Fort Delaware, with about an 
hour's warning. It was composed mostly of gentlemen 
in business here, and it made the greatest excitement. 
Some had to close their places of business entirely, 
others leaving them in charge of abov. It was amusing, 
though, for all. The Sunday schools are pretty much 
deprived of male teachers; and the choir of the church 
over the way had not a man left in it. It took from the 
Dupont Mills one hundred men, and from other places 
accordingly. A part of the regiment left on Saturday, 
and the remainder were as suddenly ordered off Sunday 
evening. When we came out from church, the street 
was so crowded we could not get to the pavement for 
some time. The drums were beating, the fifes playing 
Yankee Doodle, and it was altogether unlike Sunday. 
The church over the way had quite a shaking up on a 
recent Sabbath. A young man preached a strong Union 
sermon, and a few of the " Coppers " could not stand it, 
and seven of them got up and went out, among them 
our next door neighbor. It has made a great deal of 



160 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

fun. Ada has been sick for a week back, with a mild 
kind of typhoid fever, but is getting better slowly. Her 
leg is very bad and painful. She just begins to sit up 
now. Spencer has gone off on a sailing voyage with his 
friend, Le Roy Webster, to Cape Henlopen. 

How I do wish you lived near us ! I kinder sort o' 
feel that I have a claim upon you ! "When are you to be 
married? The coming Winter? Mr. Dickerson wishes 
particularly to be remembered to his friend Emma. 
Remember me kindly to your father, mother, and sister. 

As ever, Julia. 

All these letters will show how poor and precarious 
Mr. Dickerson's health was. and yet how constantly 
he kept at his work. AYe give an extract from 
another one, from him. written in October, 186-4, 
after a stay of a day or so in Rochester during his 
Summer vacation: 

My Dear Emma: Your letters, ever welcome, will be 
still more so now that I have revived the pleasant 
associations of the past, as they gather about your much 
loved family circle. My last visit has recovered much 
that seemed lost to memory, besides adding new treas- 
ures to my store. I did have a very pleasant visit, and 
I can not wait until the close of this letter to send my 
love to father, mother, and all the children. May God's 
infinite goodness be round about the household, as an 
angel of mercy and guidance to the better land, where 
we all, in Christ, shall happily and eternally meet! Since 
my return, our little Ada has seen many dark days and 
nights of intensest suffering. But for several days she 
has been free from sharp pain — the abscesses having 
broken — and she enjoys tolerably good sleep, either with 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 161 

or without an opiate. She has a famous appetite, which 
we sit by and feed with all the delights of parental 
cannibalism. And to be sure of the path of duty, it is 
" not by bread alone,"' but by chickens, birds, chops, and 
all the delicacies of the season which we can honestly 
lay our hands to. This is the only hopeful sign in her 
little sky, so strangely darkened and disturbed. But 
she is patient always, and, when not in the very pinch 
of pain, quite happy and contented. The rest of us are 
as usual. 1 am pretty well, although I had a sort of 
bilious knock-down a week or so ago. in which I think I 
rather got the worst of it. I don't care to try it again. 
My eyes are decidedly better. All send love. Julia 
will write soon. Affectionately yours, 

James S. Dickeesox. 

It will be seen how tenderly, in this last letter, 
he speaks of Ada, who was, indeed, a constant suf- 
ferer. Her afflictions had commenced when she 
was two years old. Recovering from an attack of 
sore eyes, she had a severe fall which injured her hip 
and sent the disease there. It gradually increased 
in severity until repeated abscesses were formed, 
and when she was nine years old there w T ere five or 
six open sores upon her hip. For weeks while they 
were forming, she would often scream from the 
intense pain ; while her father and mother, often 
through long and weary weeks, were night and day 
unremitting in their attentions. Ada was a child 
alike beautiful in face and lovely in character. Her 
constant association with older people rendered her 
more than ordinarily mature ; she was gentle and 
loving, grateful for every kindness, and disposed to 

7* 



162 JAMES S. DICKEESOX. 

do all in her power for herself. She was devotedly 
fond of reading, enjoyed having her mother read 
aloud to her, and listening to the stories spun from 
the fertile brain of her father; stories of the Revolu- 
tion, of the Indians, of everything, often exquisitely 
humorous, often ingeniously and delicately inculcat- 
ing some moral useful lesson ; and, in their racy droll- 
ery, as interesting to the grown folks as they were 
to the children. Ada, too, inherited much of her 
father's cheerfulness and playfulness of spirit, of his 
humor and his wit, as well as of his uncomplaining 
patience and fortitude amidst suffering. Yet well 
might the sunny cheerfulness often give way to 
pensive sadness, when sometimes she was for weeks 
so sore that she could only be moved on a sheet, 
and the jar of a footstep in the room threw her into 
a nervous torture. 

She had a natural ear for music, caught tunes 
readily, and was the dependence in singing of the 
infant-class in the Sabbath school ; so much so that, 
when she was prepared to enter the main school, she 
was retained in this as the head singer. Thus her 
musical talent seemed the handmaid of piety ; and, 
when a very little child, sleeping in a trundle-bed 
near her parents, she awoke them one lyght hy sing- 
ing, in a clear, ringing voice, the hymn containing 
the words, 

Let us walk in the light, 
In the light of God. 

From some notes made by her father regarding 
her with the purpose of embalming her history in a 
Sabbath school book, I make a few extracts : 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 163 

Ada, though she was not a natural Christian, loved to 
read her Bible and to hear it read. She had a pretty 
little Testament, and in May, 1864, as I went to visit 
the wounded soldiers of the Republic, she lent it to me. 
I gave it to Ira C. Ritch, from Hendersonville, Pa. He 
was shot in the shoulder; had a wife and Jour children 
at home. " My hope is strong in Jesus, but I miss my 
Bible," he said. I gave him Ada's, and her satisfaction 
was un mingled when I told her about it. She soon was 
presented with a Bible, which she often kept under her 
pillow, and in which she marked many passages she 
loved. Her favorite chapter was the 14th of John, 
beginning: " Let not your hearts be troubled: ye believe 
in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are 
many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told 
you. I go to prepare a place for you." 

Feb. 12, 1865. I preached in Pittsburgh — went home 
to a glorious revival ! 

March 9. Sydney Ross, our children's nurse, gave 
her experience. Ada was converted shortly after. Her 
experience on Monday evening, May 1, 1865. How she 
spoke, leaning on her crutches ! Among other things, 
she said, ;c I think I ought to love the Bible more ! " 
Her mamma and oldest brother baptized with her on 
Wednesday evening, May 3. How sweetly she acted in 
the baptistry, as the deacons lifted her down to me, and 
lifted her from my arms after baptism! while the choir 

sang, 

Thou hast said, exalted Jesus, 

" Take thy cross and follow me." 
Shall the word with terror seize us? 
Shall we from the burden flee V 

Lord, I'll take it, 
And rejoicing — follow thee. 

This hymn was ever a favorite with her and with me. 



164 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

May 7. I gave them the hand of fellowship. We 
gathered at the Lord's table. It was the first, and — on 
earth — the last time we were all together. The next 
communion was in Pittsburgh! Spencer, Ada, Sydney 
Ross! Again the hand of fellowship — one was not 
there. 

Thus much from her father's notes. Ada believed 
that if she had not been "afflicted'* she should 
have continued to go " astray ;" that to the sorrow 
of her life she owed her life eternal. Of her con- 
version she said: " I put my head under the covers 
that night and asked God to forgive me, and he did." 
Her prayers were habitually earnest, direct, full of 
simple faith — like her father's. One incident, in 
this record of a child, we may be pardoned for nar- 
rating : 

One cold winter night, kneeling by her father to 
say her little prayer, and appreciating her warm and 
comfortable home, she prayed : " And now,- O 
Lord, bless the poor people. If they are hungry 
give them food to eat; if they are cold, give them 
clothing, and send them some coal ; and, even if 
they are naughty, Lord, do bless them, do." When 
she rose from her knees, she said, " Now, papa, I 
suppose that, to-morrow, when the Lord sends the 
coal and the other things to the poor people, they 
will think that some big folks, like you or mamma, 
prayed for them. They will not think it was a little 
lame girl, will they?" The next day in Phila- 
delphia, Mr. Dickerson met a city missionary with 
whom he was well acquainted, and told him of Ada's 
prayer. He said, " Well, go home and tell your 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 165 

little girl that the Lord has answered her prayer 
and helped the poor people, and that, too, when 
they were naughty and had very little faith." He 
then related to him how, that morning, when he felt 
that he could not look presentable on the next Sab- 
bath in his very shabby suit, and yet knew not how 
he could get a better one ; when he needed coal and 
food and necessaries for his family, he had come to 
the city, and, walking down Chestnut Street, had 
fallen in with a wealthy Baptist, the proprietor of a 
large clothing establishment. This gentleman knew 
him well and the good work he was doing in the 
city. He said to him, after a few minute's conver- 
sation, " I want to know, now, if that is the best 
suit of clothes you have." He replied that it was. 
" Well, come with me, and I think we can improve 
your appearance." He took him to his store, fitted 
him out with a new suit and overcoat, gave him 
money for a hat and boots, and a check for the pur- 
chase of some home necessaries. Ada was delighted 
at hearing the story, and believed that the incident 
was a direct answer to her prayer. Perhaps we may 
share her faith, even though the term "naughty" 
did not quite hit the mark that she intended. She 
certainly was not thinking of praying missionaries. 
But the great Prayer-hearer is sovereign in His 
answers. 

These incidents give a glimpse of Mr. Dickerson's 
home life, of the burdens he had to bear, while they 
show some of his own traits reproduced in the char- 
acter of his child. Unfortunately he was not soli- 
tary in those sad domestic experiences. How many 



166 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

a life shines out in brightness upon the public from 
a darkened home and a burdened heart ! But with 
few has there been greater harmony between the 
public and the domestic life than with him. When 
the light did not shine round him from without, it 
sprang like a living fountain from within. 

The illness of his daughter was not his only afflic- 
tion of this nature. The last letter given from him 
of October, 1864, referred to an improved condition 
of his ej^es. He had been through a very severe 
attack of typhoid pneumonia, in which his phy- 
sicians had given him over, and he lay seemingly on 
the verge of the grave. His children had been sent 
away; bells in the neighborhood were muffled, and 
all was shrouded in the gloom of impending death. 
A little incident so incongruous with the circum- 
stances, seems yet so characteristically fitted to him, 
that we can scarce avoid narrating it. His children 
had been separated from him for more than a week. 
In an hour of a little relaxing of the severity of 
the disease he had them sent for, and as the little 
ones gathered around the bedside, he asked them if 
they could not sing a little song for papa. They 
readily complied, but with a child-like obliviousness 
to the tragic character of the scene, and to his 
laughing horror, instead of the expected " I want to 
be an angel," or " There is a happy land," they 
piped up, in animated chorus, 

A frog went a courting ; lie did ride. 
Sword and pistol by his side, 

and so on through all the frolicking stanzas. The 
uncontrollable laughter from which, in his weakness, 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 167 

he feared disastrous consequences, proved, perhaps, 
a good medicine, and illustrated in a way that the 
" Preacher " never thought of, the truth of his 
apophthegm that " there is a time to laugh." 

On his recovery his eyes continued for a long time 
so weak that he could scarcely use them at all in the 
evening. My father, learning his condition, wrote 
to him, proposing that he should join my sister and 
her husband in a trip to Colorado and Utah, as likely 
to prove very serviceable. He replied as follows : 

July 6, 1804. 

To Pkof. J. F. Richardsox. — My dear friend : Your 
kind letter to me of a recent date, and that to Mrs. D. 
from Emma, are at hand and duly appreciated. The 
interest you both evince in my personal welfare is a 
source of true satisfaction to me, as I feel that our old 
friendships are still warm. As for Emma, my entire 
household has long since marked her as a rare specimen 
of " the true, the beautiful, and the good," and her 
appearance in our circle knocked one of my favorite 
proverbs high as a kite; viz., that about valuable fabrics 
being done up in small packages. 

As to going to Utah, my wife seems to think that you 
have got the idea into your heads that she is in poor 
health, and that, therefore, the matrimonial atmosphere 
of Salt Lake is recommended to me. She says her eyes 
are not yet impaired, and " she don't see it " at all. Our 
arrangements are all completed for a different trip; so, 
much as I should delight in being one of the merry 
party to Salt Lake City, I shall not be able to undertake 
it. I go for a few days to the seaside, starting next 
week. I shall leave Julia and mv little sick o-irl there, 
and, with the others, go to New York and spend a few 



168 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

weeks on Long Island Sound at my brother's. I may 
get to Rochester to Commencement. I must have a 
good, long rest, and my church have voted me two 
months if necessary. With love to all, I am, 
Affectionately yours, 

James S. Dickersox. 

In reply to a letter from me, written in the 
Summer of 1865, after the death of his wife, he 

says: 

Your letter of the 25th ult., intended to strike me at 
Pittsburgh, glanced and reached its mark at New York 
City, just as I was " on the wing" for the hills of Con- 
necticut. A good shot ! How much I thank you for it; 
it seemed as though it revived some of the dead music 
of the past. Just as I have had some faintly lingering 
echo come to me, long after the sound which had 
evoked it and all its answering echoes seemed to have 
died away. The truth is, you know more of the happi- 
ness of my inner home-life as it was, than any other of 
the dear friends who have yielded me their sympathy 
in correspondence ; consequently, I welcomed your 
letter as I would one from my own sister Grace, Mrs. 
Van Dusen. (Then, after telling where he has been, 
and where he spends the remainder of his vacation, he 
says) : My health is much improved, and I am getting 
a better appetite, both for food and sleep. I am also 
trying, not only to get, but to reflect more of cheerful 
sunshine. I feel very unworthy the smile and favor of 
the Saviour, but I do not the less value them — rather 
the more. I feel more than ever a desire to work on 
faithfully, hopefully, cheerfully. Any common bird can 
sing when the sun shines; but it requires a gay-songed, 
a heaven-aspiring lark to rise from dark and rain, and 



A DOMESTIC INTERLUDE. 169 

sing above them. I feel that God, in great love, has 
left some work for me to do. O, that I may do it, and 
all the better for the sad training through which he has 
called me to pass. Give my love to your father and 
mother, and each member of the family circle. My 
own little ones are well — Ada better than usual. Spen- 
cer is with me; the three youngest are with Aunty Jane 
on a farm near Pittsburgh. With sincere good wishes, 
I am, 

Affectionately, your friend and brother, 

James S. Dickeeso^. 



CHAPTER XL 

RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 

To this " smoky city," but to an intelligent and 
excellent church, Mr. Dickerson came in May, 1865, 
with a burdened and sorrowing heart. He had come 
in the exercise of his characteristic faith. Just after 
the burial of his wife, as he was sitting with his little 
ones about him in the house of his friend, to his sis- 
ter's inquiry, " Well, James, what are your plans? 
what are j^ou going to do?" he replied, " I hardly 
know ; I have not quite got my hand into that of 
Jesus, but he will guide me." He did guide him. 
The aunt to whom we have referred, went with him 
and remained more than a year ; his family was cared 
for, and he came into the bosom of a thoughtful and 
sympathizing people. Of his reception in Pittsburgh 
we have already written. 

He found the church engaged in the work of rais- 
ing money for their new chapel, while worshiping in 
a public hall in the center of the city. He put aside 
his own private griefs, and immediately placed his 
shoulder under the common burden. The church 
labored with him in hearty sympathy, and, in the 
following winter, the handsome stone chapel, with 
its large Sabbath school-room containing a beautiful 
fountain, and the very tasteful audience room above, 

170 



RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 



171 



seating between five and six hundred persons, was 
dedicated. 

From his first coming to Pittsburgh Mr. Dickerson 
took a high stand, alike as a preacher and a Chris- 




FOURTH ATEXUE BAPTIST CHURCH, 

PITTSBURGH, PA. 

tian citizen interested in all good works. His genial 
disposition and fascinating manners, his read) r sym- 
pathy with every form of goodness and of suffering, 
his uniformly easy, graceful, and earnest eloquence, 
made him a general favorite, and constantly sought 



172 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

for on public occasions. In Sunday-school gather- 
ings, and temperance societies : in asylums, peniten- 
taries, and for the various charitable institutions, his 
voice was often heard and always with delight. The 
church grew in numbers and in strength, the Sab- 
bath school steadily increased, the prayer-meetings 
became larger and more earnest, and the small audi- 
ences of the public hall enlarged, until the average 
Sabbath attendance of the chapel rose to above four 
hundred. The already completed chapel and tower, 
with the lot upon which the contemplated church 
was to stand, cost altogether $80,000. This amount 
was all paid while Mr. Dickerson was pastor, and 
only the excessive pressure upon the manufacturing 
interests of Pittsburgh prevented the erection of the 
church building itself during his pastorate. As it 
was, it was not dedicated until 1875. 

Mr. Dickerson did not believe that because a 
church had contracted a debt, it was authorized to 
curtail its gifts for benevolent objects. He held that 
the Lord would prosper it in its domestic finances in 
proportion as it proved faithful to all the claims of 
Christian benevolence and charity. Statistics will 
show how his teachings in this regard were acted 
upon. The contributions of the church to benevo- 
lent purposes during the first year of his pastorate 
were $290.00 ; during the last year, the fifth, they 
were $1,137.00. The average contributions during 
these years, including payments on the chapel, were 
$14,000.00. 

To a Presbyterian brother clergyman, an old 
friend, who he thought was not happily situated in 



RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 173 

his church, he wrote soon after entering on his 
pastorate : 

Your letter had a rare welcome. If you want an 
appreciative correspondent, I'm your man ; you need 
look no farther ! I have often thought of you since we 
filled ourselves with beef -steak and melon at your 
cousin's expense. It's well to teach these laymen prac- 
tical lessons as to what it costs in these days to keep a 
" clergyman." Poor soul ! I hope he does not judge 
of "the cloth" generally by the illustration which was 
at my right hand that day ! You did do splendidly . I 
almost envied you your appetite. But a man may have 
too much of a good thing — as your astonished cousin, I 
doubt not, inwardly soliloquized. You'll never catch 
him opening a boarding-house for clergymen. * * * 
How I do wish you could get into a newer, fresher, and 
more encouraging field ! Would that your church appre- 
ciated your faithfulness and devotion ! God bless you, 
and keep you faithful, even if they are cold and heart- 
less. Your time will come; and if you will patiently 
let God fix it, you will say when it arrives, " Thank 
God that it did not strike an hour sooner." We can 
not, we ought not, to shield or apologize for cool, criti- 
cizing, half-hearted, or hindering brethren and sisters; 
but, to a certain degree, I suppose we ought to stomach 
them — for the Gospel's sake; but the Lord knows it's an 
awful g-ao-Q-y dose ! 

Here, I have a large salary in dirt, smoke, etc., etc., 
but my brethren are coming up to the mark, and seem 
to think that I am u the gem of the seas," and they are 
brethren of excellent judgment ! We shall soon begin 
to build. We have fine lots; but I have sometimes 
wished that every member of the First Presbyterian 
Church here would have the jumping tooth-ache, until 



174 JAMES S. DICKEliSON. 

they voted that we might have their house and lot at 
prime cost. I judge from your silence that your son 
experienced no severe hurt from the stone thrown at 
him. I am glad to hear of his improved health. God 
spare him for health, happiness, and usefulness; and as 
the merchant said in his prayer for his children, " Ditto, 
Lord, for all the rest, assorted sizes ! " 

Oh, when skating time comes, how 1 shall think of 
you, and long and pine for the days of " Auld lang 
syne ! " Ah me ! Give my love to your dear wife. I 
think I would fight about as quickly for her as for any 
living mortal. If she asks for any stronger evidence 
of my fraternal interest and affection, I should despair 
of satisfying her. 

As ever, yours, 

James S. Dickersox. 

As he closed the letter, I presume it occurred to 
him that he had not mentioned the children, or said 
much to satisfy a woman's inquiries, so he added : 

Yes, there is lots of news in this letter, too, Mrs. B. ! 
The children are well; I am better; butter is seventy- 
five cents a pound, chickens one dollar and twenty-eight 
cents per pair; the weather really delightful; I am 
going to Philadelphia soon; I hope to get another house 
April first; shall have a nice parsonage if I live long 
enough; I am expecting my sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, 
here soon to get the children ready for Winter. Thank 
the Lord for o-ood women ! 

Mr. Dickerson's Pittsburgh pastorate was natur- 
ally less eventful than that in Wilmington, and will 
require less detail. He spent much time in pastoral 
visiting, and the more as his people were scattered 



RESIDENCE IN PITTSBURGH. 175 

over an unusually wide area. The smoke and soot 
of the city had driven many of the citizens to the 
suburbs, and some of the most influential families in 
his church lived from five to ten miles, and some even 
farther still, from the church. He averaged about 
five hundred visits a year during the five years ; and 
the results were seen in the enlargement and pros- 
perity alike of the church and the Sabbath school. 
And when those whom the pastor had instructed 
and comforted in their homes, found their steps 
drawn to the sanctuary, they did not come in vain. 
His sermons were inspiring, and (as with most good 
preachers) to know his pulpit power was to hear 
him among his own people. He rarely wrote an 
entire sermon ; but he put more thought into them 
than is found in many a written sermon, and to 
careful and thorough preparation he added an easy 
elocution, and a directness and earnestness of 
address which were exceedingly impressive. He 
combined two essential constituents of eloquence; 
intensity and clearness of conviction, an unhesitat- 
ing flow of language and an unfailing instinct for 
concrete and pictorial expression. He spent, gener- 
ally, five or six hours a day in his study, and his 
intense application during this time made a heavy 
strain upon his vital powers. This, with his frequent 
visiting, and almost incessant calls from without, 
so taxed his energies that only the great buoyancy 
of his temper, and almost hilarious flow of spirits 
saved him from much earlier exhaustion. He 
wrought the labors of a man with the enthusiasm 
of a boy ; and, when wearied by duties which no 



176 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

amount of enthusiasm could prevent from being 
wearisome, he always found refreshment and invig- 
oration in the sympathies of a happy home. Here 
he could relax the tension of his soul, throw off for 
the time his burdens, and, in almost frolicsome 
unbending, gather strength for the next morning's 
toil of intellect, and the next afternoon's round of 
pastoral duty. 

Besides his other labors, he wrote almost weekly 
for some of the religious denominational journals ; 
his faithful and facile pen was ever ready in expo- 
sure of what he deemed error, or advocacy of some 
important truth or duty. He also accepted a virtual 
challenge from a Methodist clergyman, who stated 
in one of the Pittsburgh papers that he had repeat- 
edly affirmed that immersion was not scriptural bap- 
tism, and that no Baptist had ventured to contradict 
him. Mr. Dickerson determined to relieve this 
Goliah of the trouble of any similar challenges in 
future. He carried on a controversy with him in 
the National Baptist for about three months, main- 
taining his positions with cogency and learning. The 
argument resulted in the defection of quite a num- 
ber of the adherents of Methodism to the Baptist 
ranks. 



CHAPTER XII. 

MAKRIAGE AKD HOME LIFE IN PITTSBURGH. 

Mr. Dickerson went to Pittsburgh in May, 1865. 
He remained a widower until the Autumn of 1866, 
when the friendship which had for years existed 
between him and the present writer, took a tenderer 
and more intimate character ; and, instead of com- 
plying with an invitation to teach in Vassar Female 
College, I accepted (as he playfully informed Dr. 
Raymond, and as I was not wholly indisposed to 
deny), " a better position ; " and, following out the 
acceptance, I accompanied him to Pittsburgh. I 
was entering an untried sphere indeed, but a familiar 
family circle, and one in which all my associations 
had been peculiarly delightful. I had reason to 
anticipate the happiness which I found, and every 
day and year only developed and heightened the 
congenial sympathies which first drew us together. 
In himl found only love, and tenderness, and care ; 
all the thoughtful regard for my wishes and opinions 
that the most strong-minded asserter of the privi- 
leges of the sex could ask. From his children I ever 
had loving obedience. Just after our engagement he 
wrote, " A happy, delightful day ! May thus it be, 
'walking together' till life's journey ends, and the 
Heavenly Sabbath dawns ! " 

12 177 



178 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

He adds in his diary : 

Tuesday, Sept. 4, 18GG. The marriage notice. Started 
for Niagara Falls. Thank God for hopes and home ! 

Tuesday, Sept. 14, 10:40. Reached home ! May God 
make the happiness of myself and family redound to 
His glory. 

Again : Bless the Lord for all His unusual and 
precious gifts and tokens of favor of which I feel so 
unworthy. 

The years 1867 and 1868 brought to our hearts and 
home both joy and sorrow. In November, 1867, 
our first child, Florence, was born. She was a 
beautiful child, becoming early full of fun and frolic, 
and looking very much like her father. Her coming, 
a joy to us all, was an especial delight to Ada, who 
would amuse herself with her for hours. In con- 
nection with this one, I may record an instance of 
Ada's singular unselfishness. She had in December 
one of her periods of intense suffering, which could 
be allayed only by large opiates, but in all wdiich she 
was unfailingly patient, now and then in her parox- 
ysms, praying, "O Lord, please stop this dreadful pain, 
and come and take me to Heaven." Yet, when little 
Florence became ill and I was attending upon her, 
while her father was at Ada's bedside, soothing her 
with songs and stories, she said to him, " Poor tired 
mamma, she does not get any rest, night or day. I 
wish I could take the baby's pain, for I am used to 
it and could bear it better." 

But ere long the blows of death came in rapid 
succession. In Februaiy, 1868, after a long and 
painful illness my father, Prof. J. F. Richardson, of 



MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. I79 

Rochester, passed away. He was just sixty years old, 
and beino* blessed with an excellent constitution — 
this was his first serious illness within my memory — 
he was in his full pliysical and mental vigor. This 
is not the place to record his eulogy. But a daugh- 
ter may bear testimony to the thorough integrity of 
character, the uniform uprightness of conduct, the 
high sense of duty and of honor which won for him 
universal esteem, and even more emphatic testimony 
to the gentle virtues, the unfailing sympathy and 
kindness that illuminated and gladdened the sanctu- 
ary of his home. It was where he was best known 
that he was most esteemed and loved. 

The first agony of grief for my father was scarcely 
over, when Ada suddenly began to fail. Her appe- 
tite, which had been excellent, was gone, and she 
herself became conscious that her end was near. 
Her child-like faith, however, was strong, and she 
loved to hear of Heaven, though she would some- 
times say, " How can I leave you all, and our dear 
little baby?" Her pain could be alleviated only by 
large doses of morphia. One night, her father coming 
home late and exhausted from his labors, and finding 
her in distress, went for the accustomed dose of 
morphia. The bottle had been forgotten and was 
empty, and the place for replenishing it was a mile 
distant. He told her about it, and, kneeling down, 
asked her to join him in a prayer that God would 
give her rest and sleep without the morphia. After 
a soothing song she fell asleep and rested until morn- 
ing ; and, as she saw her father in the morning, she 
said, " The prayer was just as good as the morphia, 



180 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

wasn't it?" Her father, a believer in prayer, pro- 
bably thought it was ; yet would not have been 
tempted by the belief to forego a fresh supply of 
the medicine. God, he believed, gives answers to 
prayer, but not to presumption. 

Toward the last of May Ada failed fast, was 
much of the time unconscious, and talked incoher- 
ently. One of her little utterances, tender and 
touching at the time, was stamped soon with the 
deeper pathos of an unsuspected prophecy: "Yes," 
she said, midway between sleeping and waking, " I 
have two mammas ; one is on the earth, and one is up 
in Heaven. If I die I shall see mamma Julia;" 
and then, after a moment, she added, " But what 
could I do without my dear little baby? Ask and 
receive. I'll ask the Lord, and perhaps he will give 
me one there." Alas ! (we thought a little after), 
Ada's praj^er has too surely reached its mark, and 
Heaven has been enriched by and for her at the 
expense of our double affliction. But as yet our 
hearts did not forbode it. 

Her father, meantime, talked to her of Heaven, 
and pictured, as he beautifully could, its glories and 
pleasures ; and her favorite aunt, Mrs. Van Dusen, 
of New York, who kindly came a few clays before 
her death, did much to soothe her, and aid us all in 
the trial. In the early morning of May, just after 
she had said, " I hear the bells ringing : how sweetly 
they sound ! " she quietly breathed her last — one 
moment listening and talking, the next moment 
deaf and mute forever ! How close on the mystery 



MARRIAGE AXD HOME LIFE. 181 

of life is the mystery of death ! In the family Bible 
her father wrote : 

"Ada Pauline Dickerson, oldest daughter of 
James S. and Julia S. Dickerson, died sweetly and 
in Jesus, May 29, 1868, at 7 a.m. For ten weary 
years she suffered a painful affliction, which she 
endured with remarkable patience, and under the 
sad yet refining influence of which she was led to 
Christ, and grew into a loveliness of Christian 
maturity as remarkable as it was beautiful. Her 
trust was in Him who is ; the resurrection and the 
life.' " 

In his diary he wrote : " Monday, June 1st. Dar- 
ling Ada placed in a grave at Alleghany cemetery, 
awaiting the glad "summons of the resurrection day. 
Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly ! " 

Although but thirteen years old, Ada had been 
necessarily so much with older people, that she was 
very mature, and I found in her a congenial and 
sympathizing companion. The affectionate care of 
all the household clustered about her, and with her 
brothers and sister, in the absence of papa and 
mamma, her wishes and advice were final. As we 
laid away her little crutches, we could but rejoice 
that the need of them was forever past, but we 
missed day by day her glad presence, and her loving 
ways. 

She had been but a few weeks in heaven when 
her half prayer, half prophecy was fulfilled, and the 
summons came for our precious little Florence. On 
Monday, July 6th. she was taken suddenly and 



182 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

violently ill, and Ada's words, " What shall I do 
without my baby?" came to our hearts with a 
thrilling, and hitherto unthought-of meaning. As 
the day wore on, and that fearful disease, cholera 
infantum, seemed to take a death-like hold of the 
dear little flower, I thought, " Can it be that Ada is 
about to have this baby ? Can it be that her prayer 
is about to draw my little angel to the skies?'* 
Ada did not mean this. If Guiclo, " dizzy with 
heaven," forgot to turn away the ball, he surely did 
not direct it to its mark for the sake of a speedier 
brotherly reunion. Yet, if this was the unconscious 
import of Ada's prayer, who shall deny that it is 
in mercy? Who knows from what " evil to come " 
the little one is taken away? Snatched, perhaps, to 
the fold of the Heavenly Shepherd, ere its feet have 
strayed into paths of earthly sin and sorrow. 
Would parental love prolong this life to Ada's years 
at the cost of Ada's suffering? The mother's heart 
may be forgiven for shrinking back from the fatal 
record. Yet the dreaded event came, and, shortly 
after ten o'clock at night, our first-born, the darling 
of our hearts, and the light of our home, was gone. 
Her death was five weeks after that of Ada. Her 
father wrote in his diary: "Died suddenly, Monday, 
July 6th, at 10.30 p.m., our precious little daughter, 
Florence, aged seven months and sixteen days." 

And so, within six months, the Angel of Death 
came thrice into the circle of our loved ones. 

Insatiate Archer, could not one suffice ? 

These successive sorrows, to me fraught with 



MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 183 

sadness and depression, as I vainly struggled with* 
grief over my first-born, Mr. Dickerson looked upon 
with a Christian eye, and saw the bright side of 
every bereavement. He had been early disciplined 
in the school of trial, and his Christian faith taught 
him that, while the mysteries of Providence were 
beyond solution, yet many things might be partially 
comprehended by him with whom is "the secret of 
the Lord." 

I quote a few lines from a letter written from 
McKeesport, near Pittsburgh, where Mr. Dickerson 
attended an association a short time after Ada's 
death : 

Here I am, and hard at work. I have a nice place 
to stay, and brother Everson is my bed-fellow. The 
service is an interesting one, and promise is yielded 
of considerable animation and discussion. It seems 
both strange and sad to me, as my mind turns home- 
ward, that I have no message to Ada to send, no anx- 
ieties to nurse, and no prayers to offer in her behalf. 
We do not know, darling, just how much we love, 
until we are tried by bereavements. How tender we 
should be to one" another in view of the fact that some 
day we shall be separated, and that forever — so far as 
this poor world is concerned ! I feel that I want to be 
more loving and careful and truly tender, in all my 
future life, toward the dear ones whom I love and 
who love me. * * * Give my love to the dear chil- 
dren, not overlooking the sweet little hair-puller and 
eye-scratcher, who does take so much after her mother. 
Kiss her and the others for me, and accept a few choice 
specimens for yourself. As I have opportunity I will 



184 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

'write a few lines again. With much love, darling, and 
hoping I shall find you stronger and better, I am, 
Affectionately, your loving and lover-husband, 

James. 

Writing from another association, or convention, 
in a distant part of the State, where Baptists were 
not as wide-awake as he wished, he says : 

Here I am, safe and sound. I had a good rest, and a 
fair amount of sleep, for me, in the sleeping-car. I had 
several pleasant companions on the way. We reached 
here at 7 a.m., and after breakfast and hanging around 
for an hour, I reported myself to the " Committee on 
Delegates," and received a card of introduction to a 
very pleasant family. I left my valise and shawl, and 
then sat down in the reading-room of the hotel to fulfill 
my promise to my absent, but not forgotten, wife. 1 
am mighty glad you did not come. It rather humbles 
me to go, with my hat and card in hand, to ask hospital- 
ity of strangers, and they Presbyterians. To have you 
do it would be far worse. Then, too, I know you would 
have become sick and tired of the whole performance. 
Things are very one-horse-ish here among some Penn- 
sylvania Baptists — and I guess always will be until the 
" second coming." Dr. Castle, of Philadelphia, if he 
comes, is to be my chum. He is a fine, gentlemanly 
fellow. Mrs. Dr. Loomis, I hear, is in town, and Dr. L. 
is expected. If they do not put me on for any service 
Thursday evening, I think I will start that night, and 
get to Pittsburgh in the morning. But now I must stop 
and go to the depot, and see if the Philadelphia dele- 
gates have arrived. Drs. Henson, Wheaton Smith, 
Weston, Randolph, and a few others, are expected. 
Give my love to the children, and tell them they must 



MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 185 

help you all they can, and give a good report of them- 
selves when I get back. Good-bye, dearest. While I 
do not wish you were here, I do wish I were with you. 
Home is the brightest and cheeriest place on earth to me. 
Even our Pittsburgh home seems very bright, compared 
with any other spot that is not home! May God bless 
and keep you all. All my thoughts are in some way 
related to home and vou. 

Your own dear husband, 

James S. Dickerson. 

From another letter, written from the Hudson, 
where he was spending a few days at his uncle 
James Stokes' summer home, we make a few 
extracts : " The day is a real October one, reminding 
us of the days that are to come ; those 4 melancholy 
days,' over which the poets have sung in such sad 
numbers. And yet there is something very inspiring 
to me in these Autumn times, and I feel more sym- 
pathy with the animation of the squirrels that were 
chattering in the woods to-day, than with the fright- 
ened birds that were sailing sadly southward this morn- 
ing. * * * I am beginning to make arrangements 
for my homeward trip. I want to impress myself, by 
the help of God, on my field this fall and winter, 
as never before. I want to work and study hard 
and effectively. I want to get up earlier, and be a 
little more systematic, and make every day tell. If 
my head does not give out — this dizziness, I mean — 
I think it will tell for good, on me and on my field. 

" I think I may say that it is quite settled that 
Uncle James will help me in my trip abroad. He 
said, the last time that I talked with him, that he ' 

8* 



186 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

wanted me to go once on a skimming sort of a trip, 
seeing a good deal in a little while. Then, he 
wanted me to take my wife, and make another slower 
and longer trip, that would give us something to 
talk about the rest of our lives. He talked as if he 
was ready to do a generous thing when the time 
came. * * * But, darling, I would rather have 
you and half a visit, than go without you and have 
a whole one." * * * 

From a letter received while I was making a visit 
in Rochester, in 1869, when I was talking of pro- 
longing my stay a little, I quote a few sentences : 

I have read your last letter, just received, for the 
second or third time, and, while it is a comfort and 
satisfaction to hear from you again, it awakens a strong 
desire to have you safely and lovingly at home. As 
to prolonging your visit, I would try to speak impar- 
tially if I really could, but I have an idea that my 
prejudices are a little warped in your favor. As to 
home affairs, there is nothing in the housekeeping 
arrangements that absolutely calls for the presence of 
its "stirring" head. In this respect we are not suffering. 
I have no doubt there are little neglects in pantries, 
closets, etc., which will come to light when you return ; 
but that will make no difference a thousand years hence. 
* * # As for your " own precious," why his opinion 
on a matter of this kind isn't to be trusted at all. I do 
not know how it looks at Rochester, but there are all 
the appearances here of a hard; wintry week. The 
snow is falling at intervals, the sky looks very threaten- 
ing, and I should feel greatly relieved to greet you 
safely from storms and worse alarms on Saturday 



MARRIAGE AND HOME LIFE. 187 

evening, should you conclude that it is not best to 
extend your visit. 

We began our extra meetings last Wednesday night, 
but as yet they have not been fruitful in any special 
results, although one young man, I believe, is out in the 
clear light of a hope. Would that I had more of that 
simple resting on God and His own work ! * * * 
We ail think of you and talk of you, and conclude that 
a large part of the family circle has been taken away, 
and a mere, lonely segment left. If a little separation 
is worth anything, it is because it reveals the true depth 
of our love for absent ones. Thank God that we need 
this kind of discipline so little ! How few retain the 
freshness and simplicity of heart love as we do, darling! 
Of this kind of love the poet sang when he breathed so 
sweetly on his lute, 

'Tis said that absence conquers love, 

But oh, believe it not ! 
I've tried in vain its power to prove, 

But thou art not forgot. 

And surely we have been separated often enough and 
long enough to test, that 

Though absent, present in love we be — 
Our souls much farther than our eyes can see. 

Stay a few days longer if you wish, and telegraph me 
in time so that I shall not be looking for you and be 
disappointed. I do not think there is much danger, 
especially in coming this way. But good-bye, darling, 
until we meet, either in peaceful correspondence, or " in 
arms." Affectionately yours, 

J. S. D. 

Some time before this an Eastern church in a 
beautiful city wrote to him, urgently and repeatedly 



188 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

begging him to become their pastor, and offering 
some unusual inducements in the matter of a salary 
and a nice parsonage. Referring to it in a letter he 
writes what we quote below, and soon afterward 
declined the call, feeling that it was still his duty 
to remain with the church in Pittsburgh and endure 
the dirt, which was a great trial to him and to us 
all. He saj's : 

" The claims from are pushed again. But 

I want the thing decided on principles that will 
stand the test of a view from the dying hour. I am 
not disposed to shirk every sacrifice, and when I 
think what other ministers have had to endure, and 
what Christ undertook for me, I feel that it is quite 
likely that unless I move very carefully and in the 
fear of God, He may change my average of a very 
happy pastoral life to one that would show much 
more of trouble, anxiety, and even sorrow. The 
friends here constantly enquire about you and send 
love to you. Tell Ada her letter was tip-top ; but 
I would like to know where she gets note paper 
with ; A. P. D." on it? Such notions of extrava- 
gance have just got to be ' put down.' 5 

In a letter addressed to Ada a few days afterward 
he headed the letter, written on a large square letter 
sheet, with a fanciful gj. g>« O., an d addressed her 
as, My dear Miss "A. P. D.,"' which amused her 
very much. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 



Mr. Dickerson closed his labors in Pittsburgh in 
May, 1870. In the April previous he had accepted 
a call to the South Baptist church in Boston, Mass. 
The circumstances of the call had seemed singular 
and providential. In 1865, while the church in 
Pittsburgh was worshiping in Masonic Hall, before 
the completion of their chapel, a Mr. Pettingiil, 
from Boston, visiting his son-in-law in Pittsburgh, 
a member of this church, heard Mr. Dickerson on 
the Sabbath morning, and w r as drawn by his interest 
in the discourse to repeat his attendance at the 
church on a very oppressive evening. He returned 
to Boston with an estimate of Mr. Dickerson which 
the lapse of years did not efface. Nearly five years 
afterward, when the South Baptist church had been 
for four months without a pastor, Mr. Pettingiil, as 
chairman of the pulpit committee, wrote to his 
" Western man," inviting him to come and preach 
for them, with a view to a call. The letter came 
while Mr. Dickerson was spending two or three 
weeks in New York. He had, even during this 
year, received repeated invitations to other fields; 
but had declined them. This, how r ever, impressed 
me as none of the others had; and when my 

189 



190 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

husband read it on his return, he said, " I have 
never felt as I do now about leaving Pittsburgh. I 
have a conviction that the Lord's hand is guiding 
us to Boston. What do you think?" In reply to 
the request he wrote as follows : 

February 19, 1870. 

My Dear Brother : Your letter of the loth inst. 
is at hand, and I thank you for its kind references to 
myself, and its clear statements with regard to the 
church which you represent. Since its reception I have 
given to the important subject, which it suggests, much 
serious and prayerful consideration. Never during my 
five years pastorate in this city have I gained the con- 
sent of my conscience and judgment seriously to con- 
sider any invitation to other churches, although, in 
several instances, both pecuniary and other induce- 
ments were very strongly in favor of the fields to which 
I was called. But I frankly confess that a different state 
of things surrounds me now, and, should Providence 
open the way, I should consider myself at liberty to 
entertain the question of a change. The church of 
which I am pastor has, by God's blessing, reached such 
a position of prosperity and strength, that a change of 
pastors need not embarrass any of its interests, and 
might, indeed, promote them all. When I became 
acquainted with the First Baptist Church of this city, its 
property was worth less than 89,000, and its two hundred 
scattered, discouraged, and weakened members wor- 
shiped in a very poor public hall. Now, its beautiful 
chapel with the land on which it stands, including lots 
for our projected main edifice, all worth 860,000 or 
§70,000, are practically paid for, while our membership 
has increased to about three hundred and fifty, and our 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 191 

working strength quadrupled. The main edifice is not 
likely to be begun for some time yet. Hence the altered 
circumstances which make me feel that the Master's 
cause here need not suffer injury by a change of pastors. 

He then speaks of the pleasant relations between 
him and the church, and of the pain which would 
attend the sundering of the ties which bound him 
to them ; while he yet deems it possible that the 
Lord may be preparing him for it, and, if so, it will 
conduce to the highest good of all. 

Having a natural shrinking from appearing before 
the church in the attitude of a candidate, he sug- 
gested to the Boston church that instead of his 
going to them they should send a committee of two 
or three to hear him at home. But Mr. Pettingill 
wrote that there were not two or three men in the 
church who w T ould take such responsibility, and if 
there were, the church would not be satisfied to be 
represented by them. However, to make the matter 
less embarrassing, they arranged that but few of 
the church should be aware of the precise state of 
affairs. In reply to a letter stating this, he wrote : 

* * * I am grateful to you and the brethren with 
whom you counsel for the judicious and considerate 
plan you have adopted in respect to my visit. It is a 
very undesirable position to occupy when a minister, 
who wants to preach in view of the judgment of the 
great day, is almost of necessity compelled to thoughts 
of the "judgment" his hearers are passing upon him; 
and while, as an individual, I know little of what is 
called the fear of men, I am conscious of great sensi- 
tiveness when I stand before an audience. Extempor- 



192 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

aneous speakers who " kindle " with the inspiration of 
their hearers are placed at a great disadvantage when 
they are left to the poor thoughts of their mere personal 
relations, or acceptability to those whom they would 
persuade and move. Would that I could always be 
clear above these lower considerations, and lift my 
hearers and myself to the realization that the work in 
which we are eng;aored, while it demands the verv best 
gifts, can not be successfully prosecuted by mere human 
appeals, however captivating, or convincing, or persuad- 
ing they may be in themselves. Xo, not with enticing 
words " of man's wisdom." Wherever I may preach may 
I have your prayers that I may be a faithful, bold, yet 
loving, preacher of the truth as it is in Jesus. 

Mr. Dickerson went to Boston the last of March, 
attended the Friday night prayer-meeting, preached 
and baptized on Sunday the 27th, and left for Pitts- 
burgh on Tuesday morning. Of the church meeting 
which was held that Tuesday night, Mr. Pettingill 
wrote : "In the height of a driving north-east storm 
we assembled in our vestry last night, and found the 
largest number present I ever saw at a business 
meeting." Then, after speaking of the remarks of 
many in regard to giving Mr. D. a call, he says : 
" Every speaker expressed himself clearly and une- 
quivocally in favor of extending you a unanimous 
call, and when a motion to that effect was made, 
seconded and put, the moderator asking for a rising 
vote, every one present arose. There was no ma- 
chinery, no electioneering, but one free, full, hearty 
outburst of a sentiment pervading every heart here. 
It was the largest vote ever cast for a pastor, not- 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 193 

withstanding the severe storm without ; a unanimous 
vote, notwithstanding we have heard fifteen candi- 
dates, and most of them, if not all, above the medi- 
ocrity of preachers, and many of them having strong- 
friends in the church. To my mind there is no way 
of accounting for this hearty unanimity, but that 
our blessed Redeemer is moving upon all hearts in 
our dear church, and that ' God has led us by a way 
we know not." You should have seen the thrill of 
pleasure that each countenance exhibited when the 
vote was announced. No words of mine can give 
you an idea of what our eyes saw and our ears heard. 
Our meeting closed about ten o'clock, but it was 
nearly eleven o'clock before the people left the ves- 
try. To what can we attribute this wonderful 
result, but to the hand of our blessed Lord? Our 
brothers and sisters say it is an answer to prayer, 
and to-day among those I have seen there is but one 
theme — the result of the meeting, and their hopes 
and expectations touching your acceptance of our 
call. In all my experience I have never witnessed 
anything approximating such a feeling as now per- 
vades our church. * * * Let us hear from you 
as soon as possible, for the days will seem like weeks 
until we do." 

Another member of the church writing to a friend 
after this meeting, says, i; Glory to God in the high- 
est — praise the Lord! I don't know that I can 
contain mvself lon^ enough to write, but I will try. 
It is raining very hard to-night, but in spite of it, I 
never saw so large a number at our church-meeting 
as we had to-night. We took a vote for pastor, the 

9 



194 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

largest vote ever recorded on our church books, and 
Dr. Dickerson had every vote cast. Is not this God's 
work ? We have heard fifteen candidates, and the 
most of them able men, and I was afraid we could 
not be united. I know that before Dr. D. came we 
could not have got more than a two-thirds vote on 
any one we have heard : but when he came he united 
every heart of the church and congregation. I wish 
you could have been here and seen the interest mani- 
fested. Never in the history of the church, since I 
have been connected with it, have I seen anything 
like it. Men grasped each other by the hand, and 
women went here and there praising God for his 
wonderful goodness to us in thus uniting us. * * 
We believe we have the finest field to work in where 
a man can make himself useful for his Master, in 
Boston, I care not where the church is. * * * 
Dr. Warren, of the Missionary Board, says, 'I hope 
he will come, you can't do better,' and so say many 
others. They say we want him here, in the ' Athens 
of America.' " 

There are other letters of the same tenor, but 
these will suffice to show how quickly and how 
thoroughly all hearts were turned toward him, and 
how enthusiastic was the call to Boston. In April 
Mr. Dickerson accepted it, and preached his first 
sermons as pastor on Sunday, May 15th, from the 
texts, " He shall see the travail of His soul, and be 
satisfied," and in the afternoon, "I am not ashamed 
of the Gospel of Christ; for it is the power of God 
unto salvation." The latter sermon was noticed, 
with a brief analysis of it, in the Boston Journal. 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 195 

As at Pittsburgh, so at Boston, Mr. Dickerson 
was cordially welcomed into the circle of the minis- 
try, and was at once recognized as among the leading 
preachers there. His audiences increased steadily, 
and in his evening services, generally adapted more 
especially to the young and the unconverted, the 
large audience-room and galleries were crowded. 
The usual practice had been here, as generally 
elsewhere in New England, to have preaching ser- 
vices in the morning and afternoon, followed by a 
meeting for prayer in the evening. Desirous to 
reach a large number in the community who would 
not attend at his church in the daytime, nor could 
be drawn to a prayer meeting at all, as also feeling 
unable to preach two sermons in such close succes- 
sion, Mr. Dickerson innovated on the old system, 
and, with the concurring action of the church, 
transferred the preaching of the afternoon to the 
evening. The result justified the change. Multi- 
tudes of young people were drawn, either from 
other churches, or, more commonly, from their 
saunterings in the streets or by the sea-shore, to the 
place where the Gospel was proclaimed with earnest 
and often with thrilling eloquence. On one occa- 
sion two young ladies, members of a Universalist 
congregation, being attracted to his evening service, 
listened to a sermon on the " speechlessness" of the 
guest avIio was found at the kingly banquet without 
the wedding garment. The effect on the audience 
generally was very marked, and the two young 
ladies went home alarmed over their spiritual desti- 
tution. A lady with whom Mr. Dickerson had a 



196 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

pleasant acquaintance, gently taking him to task the 
next day for preaching such fear-inspiring sermons, 
and stating that these young ladies had passed a 
sleepless night after hearing him, " Good,'' he 
replied, " I am glad to hear that they were touched 
by what they heard. I hope they will give them- 
selves no sleep until they have made their peace 
with God, and are entitled to a robe of righteousness 
which will fit them to appear at the marriage supper 
of the Lamb." 

We have already adverted to Mr. Dickerson's 
leading characteristics as a preacher. He was, by 
unanimous consent, an easy, graceful, effective, and 
eloquent speaker ; forcible in manner, fluent and 
often extremely felicitous in expression, rich in illus- 
tration, solid and sufficiently profound in thought, 
and his whole elocution vivified by unmistakable 
Christian fervor — " Truths divine came mended 
from his lips." As a preacher of Christ he sought 
to declare the whole counsel of God. If he de- 
lighted in the milder, he did not shrink from the 
sterner, utterances of the Gospel. If Calvary was 
in the foreground, Sinai was as uniform^ in the 
background of his picture. Through his Christian 
fidelity a " violated law spoke out its thunders," 
while, with a more loving readiness, from a heart 
and lips on which had descended its richest balm, 
" the Gospel whispered peace." He sought to preach 
the whole Gospel in its rounded fullness. His 
morning sermons, generally more elaborate, and 
designed more especially for Christians — though 
rarely closing without an appeal to the unconverted 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 197 

— were, to the thoughtful hearers, a feast of fat 
things. His reading of the hymns was often strik- 
ingly impressive, and many will recall the glowing 
and almost inspired fervor with which he read such 
hymns as, 

In the Cross of Christ I glory, 

Towering o'er the wrecks of time, 

and felt that no one could doubt, were it even but 
from the soul which he threw into that reading, that 
he did glory supremely in the Cross of Christ. He 
usually spent about fifteen minutes of the morning 
service in commenting on the scriptures which he 
read, and his expositions were often exceedingly 
felicitous and instructive. Many a passage opened 
itself luminously to the hearers. Then followed 
the sermon, which always commanded a rapt 
attention to the end. 

Of his pastoral labors we really need say nothing. 
To a man so constituted, so tender, so social, so sym- 
pathizing and magnetic, and then transformed by 
grace, to be a good, faithful, and beloved pastor was 
a moral necessity. No wonder then that he won the 
unanimous and enthusiastic love of his people. One 
of the members of the church recently writing of 
him to me, says, " I thank God we are to have that 
precious life written. I have often wished it could 
be done ! Such lives are rare, and its influence will 
be greatly beneficial to all who have the pleasure of 
its perusal. I wish we might have some of those 
inspiring sermons in the memorial ! O, how I enjoyed 
them! It seemed to me he was inspired — I believe 
he was full of inspiration, for there was an unction 



198 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

in his sermons rarely met with. I did appreciate 
him when he was our pastor, and felt then that we 
were a favored, happy people. He spoke the truth 
so plainly, but always in love. How ready he always 
was to endorse every good thing ! He never waited 
until a thing was popular, but his great heart and 
mind could take it all in, could see the end from the 
beginning. When I think of all he accomplished 
during the five years here in South Boston, it seems 
as if he must have been with us a life-time. The 
place is dearer to me because he and his loved ones 
have lived here, and I know that Boston will ever 
feel the influence of his noble life — I have ever felt 
that our church would be a hard place for his suc- 
cessor, the people were so thoroughly attached to 
your beloved husband." 

We insert here from a series of articles entitled 
" Pulpit Portraits from Boston," published in The 
Examiner in July, 1870, the following sketch of Mr. 
Dickerson : 

The former connection of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, D.D., 
with The Exavhxer would sufficiently prepare your 
readers to welcome a warm tribute to the many merits 
of another new Baptist clergyman of Boston. Called 
recently from Pittsburgh, Dr. Dickerson has already 
strongly established himself in his new field of labor at 
the " South Baptist " church, and in the affections and 
confidence of his people. Much is expected of him, and 
his pastorate will be no sinecure ; but evidently he is 
not a man to covet easy places. He enters into his work 
with a skill and animation that shows the practiced hand 
and the grace-taught heart. We attended one of his 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 199 

evening services a while since, and heard him blow the 
gospel trumpet with no uncertain sound. His text was 
the Saviour's golden declaration, " There is joy in the 
presence of the angels of God over one sinner that 
repenteth," and a well-filled house listened intently to 
his sermon till the close. The discourse was topical, 
pictorial, and though in portions somewhat diffuse, quite 
clear and forcible. One illustration (of the event of 
repentance, and its joyful effect "in the presence of the 
angels of God,") would dwell long in a hearer's memory. 
It was an instance from the speaker's personal recollec- 
tions, of a company of repentant rebels gathered out of 
several regiments of Confederate prisoners at Fort Dela- 
ware during the war. The scene of the oath-taking was 
vividly drawn, the washing of the soiled and tattered 
troop in the river (apt emblem of baptism, though the 
preacher did not turn aside to use it), their rehabilitation 
in " loyal blue," and finally the joy in the presence of the 
army when they marched to the sound of music, on the 
parade-ground, and took their place in the ranks of the 
country's defenders. 

Dr. Dickerson has a pleasant voice and natural ges- 
ticulation. We noticed nothing affected in his manner 
or utterance. Men will be apt to hear and remember 
the truth told from his lips. Occasionally he uses a 
quaint phrase, and sometimes breaks out with an unex- 
pected apostrophe ; but his style is not daring enough 
to be dangerous to the general good effect, and he never 
grows boisterous. He is short of stature but shrewd of 
head. 

Warmly we joined in the Doctor's expressive prayer, 
at the close, that the congregation might not turn away 
that night in wooden insensibility, " like a door turning 
on its hinges ; " and when we went out, we carried with 



200 JAMES S. DICKERSON 

us the conviction that the South Baptist church had 
secured the right man. 

In August, 1870, Mr. Dickerson made a trip with 
one or two of his members to Montreal and the 
Saguenay River. He thus writes : 

Montreal, Aug., 1870. 

T am in Her Majesty's Dominion. The hotel is noth- 
ing to speak of, although it is much spoken about. To 
tell you the truth, I prefer the board at Dickerson Hall 
to anything we have as yet attained. * * * We had 
a splendid day yesterday on the St. Lawrence River, 
from Ogdensburg to Montreal — down among the rapids 
all the way. It was novel and inspiring. This morning 
we went into the Catholic cathedral here. I will tell 
you all about it when I see you. It is a fine building, 
but otherwise a perfect humbug — pictures, furniture 
and all. I received your letters, and read them before 
I ate my supper last night. They were like water to a 
thirstv soul. I am o-oin^ to read them a^ain in a few 
moments. I do hope you are having a nice time, and I 
think you are. I believe it will be greatly to the 
physical well-being of you all to enjoy the air and water 
of Owl's Head. I shall be disappointed if I do not 
have a few more days there with you. * * * I am 
already looking forward to work and comfort in our nice 
new house, in the fall and winter. I think we have 
hopeful and joyous prospects before us. Never were 
we more comfortably or honorably situated. A good 
position, a good field, and warm, hearty appreciation 
and co-operation ! Let us be grateful, and try to be 
more consecrated to the great and noble work in which 
we are permitted to engage — for which we are privi- 
leged to make sacrifices ! I doubt whether I shall ever 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 201 

again have any better opportunity to serve the cause of 
Him who has done so much for me — so much that, but 
for His grace, I should have been a poor, miserable, 
inefficient, and ignoble character, not to say worse. All 
my social position, all my poor attainments in mental, 
moral, and social culture, I owe to Jesus, who pardoned 
me my sins, and started and helped me in a better and 
upward direction. And among my blessings I count 
the joyful coming of my dear, precious Emma. * * * 
Mr. P. is a rare good man, and an enjoyable traveling 
companion. Remember me to the family at Owl's Head, 
and particularly to the Cheneys, who have been so kind 
to us. * * * 

From a letter written while I was in Rochester, 
N. Y., visiting my sister, Mrs. Robins, who was very 
sick, and who died a few months after, we quote a 
few sentences: 

I am sorry to read your words of discouragement as 
to Maggie ! Could she not stand a slow journey hither? 
And if so is there not hope that the salt air and mag- 
netic treatment would help her ? I should not want to 
take any responsibility in the case, for she might die on 
the way, but if they should deem it best I will do all I 
can to make the experiment a successful one. * * * 
Dr. Fulton goes to Brooklyn ! I think it is a great 
mistake ; and yet it may be one of those mysterious 
" providences" which occur against all human calculation, 
and sometimes in spite of them. He goes ricrht off, I 
believe. Next Sunday I propose to settle the debt 
business. My preference was to defer it for awhile 

— but some of the folks thought it best — "now or 

always." The thing will be put through, I hope. They 
want you to pledge the Ladies' Circle for two hundred 



202 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

dollars, to be paid during the year ! The Sunday school 
will give one hundred dollars or more, in addition to 
what they have done. * * * I feel very sad about 
affairs in Rochester ; but it's all right. Sooner, perhaps, 
than we think, we shall all be reunited in that better 
country, where there is no death, neither sorrow nor 
crying. I do not expect death, as you sometimes seem 
to think I do ; but I no longer dread it. I love life as 
ever, and am as hopeful, buoyant, and trustful as ever 
of the future ; but I am a good deal less earth-bound, 
and feel that the greatest thing is to cultivate that work, 
those friendships, and that inner spiritual life which will 
gladden and bless the sweet and eternal .hereafter. * * * 
Don't cut }^our visit short ; but expect a cordial and 
joyful welcome at its close. * * * 

A letter written to Dr. Warren Randolph, whom 
he had known and loved for years, we are glad to 
insert : 

425 4th St., So. Boston, May 23, 1870. 

My Dear Randolph : You see where I am! There's 
no knowing what a man may come to who starts in life 
with even pretty good prospects. Actually here in 
"Down East." No "flourishin'," no " in-coming tides 
of immigration," no " vast rivers running to the sea," 
no " westward-the-star-of-empire " fallutinism to sing ; 
but simply a down -east Yankee, where a fellow has got 
to work or starve, to be something or else to be a 
nobody ; where splurging don't go half as far, or accom- 
plish half as much as it does elsewhere ; where, in fact, 
a man is valued far nearer his actual weight, and where 
the weights are looked into more impudently than any- 
where else on this continent — that's just where I am. 

You see at a glance, Randolph, the situation. I have 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 203 

brought my traps to a poor market, but here I am, and I 
am bound in a true Yankee spirit to " go in." 

I had expected to have seen you in person on my way 
hither. I had hoped to have stopped at Philadelphia 
for a day or two, but concluded at the last to come via 
Rochester, New York, that Mrs. Dickerson might see 
her kindred and friends. 

I preached my first sermons a week ago yesterday. 
Am to be " recognized " next Sabbath evening. After 
that, hope to be able to do a good deal better. 

Thus far I have been favored with good audiences 
and favorable opinions. I do earnestly hope and confi- 
dently believe that God's blessing will be with me. I 
have a fine field and I think a fine chance. Come over 
and explore with me. I shall be glad to welcome you 
and Mrs. R. 

I am pleased as well as any man need to be. It will 
be my own fault or misfortune if I do not accomplish 
something here for Christ and the Baptists in South 
Boston. 

I am almost settled in a snug little house, and will be 
glad to greet you at my door. God bless you and your 
family and your work. I thank you, Randolph, for your 
fraternal interest in and love for me. I want to show 
you in some way that T appreciate it and you. 

Hoping you will pray for me in my difficult work and 
new field, I am Affectionately yours, 

James S. Dickersox. 

I fear I can not be at anniversaries. 

Mr. Dickerson had scarcely been a year in Boston 
when his labors began to "tell" upon him. First 
he had some of those afflictions popularly known as 
" Job's comforters " — a succession of terrible boils, 



204 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

at one time thirteen of them on his neck and throat. 
These threw him into a fever, and when sufficiently 
recovered to resume work, he looked pale and mis- 
erable. He would not, indeed, be recognized as a 
sick man, told those who undertook to condole 
with him, to look for some more fitting objects of 
their sympathy, and declared that he " could do as 
much work any day as two or three of your big, fat, 
vealy fellows." 

But he was sick, however indisposed to acknowl- 
edge it, and the fact was palpable to everybody but 
himself. It was evident to the church that he 
needed a long and thorough, rest, and of course his 
mind and that of his friends turned naturally to that 
grand panacea for diseased throats and overworked 
brains and shattered nerves— a trip to Europe. But 
how to compass it ? His church was not quite in a 
condition to meet all the expenses attendant on both 
the absence and journey, and his own finances, fol- 
lowing the customary fortunes of Baptist clergymen, 
had not expanded into very magnificent propor- 
tions. In fact, between ordinary household expenses, 
and those occasioned by the visitations of sickness 
and death, he had not yet succeeded in extricating 
himself fully from debts contracted in his years of 
business. We insert here a letter or two illustrating 
at once his business embarrassments, and his con- 
scientiousness in dealing with debts which, though 
legally outlawed, still stood valid in the forum of 
conscience and of honor. In 1871 he wrote to Rev. 
H. J. Botts, of Manchester, England, an old news- 
paper correspondent of the Chronicle, sending him a 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 205 

part of the amount due him, nearly one hundred 
dollars, and asking for information regarding the 
entire amount. He received the following reply : 

" I was not a little surprised to receive a letter 
from you not long since. The remittance you speak 
of, which, after the 6 writing off' of the affair years 
ago, I ceased to anticipate, will, as it happens, be 
very useful just noiv on the birth of our tenth child. 
But I am more delighted and deeply moved by the 
truly Christian spirit and sterling principle evinced 
by this communication. The righteous Lord will 
surely supply all your need in the future according 
to His glorious riches in Christ. 

" I had quite forgotten the amount due to me from 
the Chronicle, and have had to hunt up old memo- 
randa to supply the information you ask." Then he 
gives a statement of the account, and adds, as Mr. 
D. had mentioned a contemplated trip to Europe, 
" I trust you will enjoy your contemplated tour! I 
spent three months five years ago in Italy and have 
most interesting reminiscences of that city (Rome) 
and its historic and sacred associations. I half envy 
you your daily rambles in the city and Campagna ! 
I trust you will come back by Manchester and Liver- 
pool. If you do, let me know, and I will meet you 
at the station, give you a bed, and bread and cheese 
at my house, and pilot you round this Cottonopolis. 
Do come. A hearty welcome awaits yon. My wife 
desires to express her thanks for your kind Christian 
wishes, and her high appreciation (with mine) of 
your treatment of us in this matter." 

In connection with this letter we step back for a 



206 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

moment to give another from Rev. C. E. Smith, who 
had been, in like manner, an unpaid contributor to 
the Chronicle, but to whom in 1869 he found himself 
in a condition to discharge his obligation. The tenor 
of his letter to Mr. Smith will appear from the fol- 
lowing reply : 

Cincinnati, Nov. 23, 1869. 

My Dear Brother Dickerson : I fear you have too 
good a memory for your own interests. It is not at all 
according to " the wisdom of this world," for a man to 
remember and to offer to pay a debt, long since incurred 
and outlawed, and, moreover, abandoned by the creditor. 
It would be in the highest degree accordant with that 
kind of wisdom for me to take advantage of your offer, 
and send you my bill. But I shall do no such thing. I 
intend to show myself equally foolish with yourself. I 
know too well how hard it is to pay old debts out of a 
pastor's salary, to be willing to allow you to pay me in 
that way. I accept the loss as my small share of the 
sacrifice which the war entailed upon the Christian 
Chronicle. Consider this as a receipt in full, and regard 
yourself as my debtor in future only in respect to "love 
and good works." I am sure I am much indebted to 
you for the example of integrity you have set me. I 
am very glad to have had this opportunity to reopen a 
correspondence which as you say was a pleasant one. 
Will you not write me again at your leisure without 
reference to the subject of your previous letter. I hope 
I may meet you personally before long and enlarge the 
acquaintance which has heretofore been purely episto- 
lary. I beg, and my wife also, to be remembered to Mrs. 
Dickerson, with whom we both enjo}^ed some very agree- 
able intercourse in Rochester. 

Fraternally yours, 

C. E. Smith. 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 207 

At a later period, as the last of these business 
creditors, Mr. Dickerson wrote to the firm of G. & 
C. Merriam, of Springfield, Mass., assuring them that, 
although for years his salary had barely sufficed for 
his support, yet he had not forgotten his indebted- 
ness to them. He received a few days after the 
following reply : 

Sprixgfield, Mass., March 3, 1874. 

Rev. James S. Dickerson — Dear Sir : We have 
your favor of Feb. 28th, and we beg to express to you 
our appreciation of your offer to settle the balance which 
you suppose to be due us. We have not been able to 
find any record of the account, and would therefore leave 
it with you to remit such a sum as you believe to be right. 
In case you are in circumstances somewhat straightened, 
we shall take pleasure in considering the matter as settled 
without a remittance from you. 

Yours Truly, 

G. & C. Merriam. 

Mr. Dickerson immediately wrote again, giving 
them some dates, and mentioning circumstances 
which would bring to their remembrance the old 
debt, which amounted to about eighty dollars, with- 
out interest, and received in reply a letter, from 
which we make some extracts : " * * * We have 
your favor of the 9th inst. We now recall more 
particularly the original circumstances." The writer, 
having gone over them, at the close of the letter 
says: "It is never our policy to be exacting; and, 
as your experience has been a trying one, we enclose 
return draft to your order for half the amount, 
waiving all claims of interest. Hoping you may 



208 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

have Job's experience, and your latter end be better 
than the beginning in earthly matters, we are very 
truly yours." 

We return from this digression on Mr. Dickerson's 
finances, and financial honesty, to his present illness. 
His need of protracted rest and change of scene 
was apparent; but it was not equally apparent how 
he was to attain them. But at this juncture his 
uncle, James Stokes, came nobly to the rescue. He 
had formerly aided him in purchasing the Philadel- 
phia Chronicle, had remembered him munificently 
in New Years' presents, and extended to him at 
his home an unfailing hospitality. He now came 
forward with the offer of one thousand dollars to 
meet the expenses of a trip across the Atlantic. 
His brethren in the church cordially seconded the 
proposal ; and when he laid the matter before them 
at a large meeting, and threw himself upon their 
decision, unanimously voted him a leave of absence 
for four months, to be extended at his pleasure to six 
months, and supplemented the resources furnished 
by his uncle with a pledge to continue his salary, 
and supply at their own expense the pulpit in his 
absence. This generosity toward a pastor who had 
been with them less than a twelve-month, moved 
his heart alike with joy and gratitude. It attested 
strikingly that magnetism of his nature, by which 
he could not merely command esteem, but inspire 
affection. The quick sympathies of his spirit evoked 
equally quick responses. 

Still his joy was not complete. The provision for 
his perhaps larger — I fear, not better — half were 



REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 209 

wanting. He seemed destined to go alone, and to 
this neither he nor that other half looked with 
complacency. For myself, in truth, I scarcely con- 
templated the possibility of his going unattended 
by me, and I had a strong, though apparently not 
very well founded, presentiment that the way would 
yet be opened for my accompanying him. It ivas 
opened. Just as I had assured him, in reply to 
some gentle caution from him against over-confi- 
dence, with its probable disappointment, that I 
"felt it in my bones" that I should go, he opened a 
fresh letter from his uncle, and called out to me, 
"Come, old 'bones,' here is something to gladden 
you!" — he might have added, "and cheer you in 
your new role of prophet." His uncle had written 
that, in talking the matter over with his wife, they 
had both agreed that it would be better in every 
way that Mrs. Dickerson should accompany him ; so 
he had enlarged the sum originally promised, had 
paid their " passage over, taking a double stateroom 
in the new steamer, ' Oceanic,' of the White Star 
Line ; and I want you both to be on hand and ready 
to sail on the third of June." 

My husband's enthusiasm which, while he had 
anticipated a solitary journey, had not been high, 
was now kindled and glowing; his first tone of 
banter was immediately exchanged for utterances 
of devout gratitude which should be evinced in 
deeper future consecration, and then we both set 
about our preparations in rapid earnest. So strong, 
undefinably strong, had been my convictions that I 
should go, that my personal preparations, in the way 



210 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

of wardrobe, etc., were almost entirely complete. 
Our oldest sou was to remain in Boston, our two 
younger children were to make their home with my 
mother, in Rochester ; Mr. Dickerson went person- 
ally over to Newton and engaged three of the 
professors in the Theological Seminary there to 
minister to his people, and, in view of the possibility 
of our never returning, left a sealed package con- 
taining directions for the disposition of his property, 
and his wishes regarding his children. 

Our preparations were soon complete. Our 
assembled people sang, evidently from their hearts, 
just before we left: 

As on the deep thy servants sail 
O give them, Lord, the prosperous gale, 
And on their hearts, where'er they go, 
Let all thy heavenly breezes blow. 

To which chorused prayer our hearts united with 
theirs in responding " Amen.*' Then we were in 
New York, and on the 3d of June, 1871, we bade 
" our native land" a temporary " good-night," and 
in company with the eldest daughter of Mr. Dicker- 
son's brother Thomas, were soon on the " Oceanic" 



O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, 

Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as tree. 



CHAPTER XIV. 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 



We left New York' on the third of June, 1871; 
we reached it in returning on the third of October 
following, after an absence of just four months. Our 
route lay through England and Wales, France, Italy, 
Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, and back through 
France, England, and Scotland. We traveled uni- 
formly by day, never missed a train, and with our 
four eyes saw as much, I think, as eight or ten eyes 
do commonly within the same time. Mr. Dickerson 
had quick powers of observation, a ready perception 
of contrasts, and his keen sense of the ludicrous as 
well of the beautiful, and his unfailing humor, made 
the journey an exhaustless source alike of pleasure 
and of profit. His health rapidly improved, his 
cough almost entirely left him, and when he reached 
Switzerland, and began to climb its mountain passes, 
and its nearlv inaccessible heights, following the 
chamois to their cloud-enveloped homes, or, as the 
diligence wound around some serpentine path, making 
a short-cut across, and dropping down upon us sud- 
denly from some overhanging craggy eminence, he 
felt all the buoyant exhilaration of the mountain 
atmosphere, while his soul thrilled and his frame 
quivered with exultant joy over the picturesque and 

211 



212 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

far-spreading grandeur by which he was surrounded. 
He enjoyed intensely his three weeks roaming over 
Switzerland, and returned reluctantly to the crowded 
haunts of men, even though they replaced with the 
numberless and matchless charms of art the majesty 
of nature. 

In all this journeying Mr. Dickerson remained 
true to his character of a Christian pastor. Before 
starting out on each day he had family worship in 
the hotel, and he always observed the sanctity of the 
Sabbath, uniformly seeking out, when it was possi- 
ble, some place of public Christian worship. The 
theater he, of course, avoided as conscientiously as 
he would at home, and from any of that license 
which too many Christians, and I think some Chris- 
tian ministers, allow themselves under the relaxing 
influence of foreign usages and the plea of being 
beyond the danger of influencing by example, he 
systematically and rigorously refrained. He was 
abroad the consistent Christian which he had been 
at home. He could not go any where mutilated of 
that religion which was a part of his life. 

Yet of all innocent amusements he was ever tha 
life and the soul ; he sympathized to the full with 
the pleasures of both old and young. His presence 
was the light and inspiration of any gathering. On 
his brother's yacht he would entertain the party 
untiringly with his vivacious humor and quick rep- 
artee, and then at request dash off a few verses com- 
memorative of the occasion. The following lines 
extemporized after a week's trip, as the bounding 
boat (named the " Fleur-de-Lis ") was nearing the 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 213 

harbor, will show that he had not a little both of 
the soul and the rhythmical sense of the poet : 

THE FLEUR-DE-LIS. 

My beaut}' ! 'tis for thee 
My graceful Fleur-de-lis 

My harp shall ring. 
Of all thy masts and spars. 
Decked by our gallant tars, 
With stripes and glorious stars, 

Joyful. I sing. 

When zephyrs softly blow, 
When waters gently flow, 

And skies are bright, 
Th} r wing-like sails all fair, 
Filled with the balmy air, 
Banish each land-bound care 

In calm delight. 

But when the tempests roar, 
And skies are fair no more, 

And oceans yawn, 
Staunch drives the Fleur-de-lis, 
O'er every stormy sea, 
Her flag and pennant free, 

Bright as the dawn. 

When outward bound we ride, 
And homes behind us hide 

In distance far, 
With joy we hail the wave. 
Where wildest billows rave, 
Home of the strong and brave, 

In ocean's w T ar. 

But when we're homeward bound, 
And joys we sought and found 
Are left behind, 



214 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

Sad though our parting be, 
Bright be the memory 
Of joys amid the sea 
Forever shrined. 

And so, life's voyage past, 
When tides are failing fast 

On time's last shore, 
May hope and memory blend 
In voyage without end, 
On seas no storm shall rend 

Forevermore. 

September 13, 1869. J. S. D., Chaplain. 

Of Mr. Dickerson's brief tour in Europe he made 
very large jottings; a very model, perhaps, of trav- 
elers' notes, showing that his eyes were open upon 
everything. They are full of condensed information. 
On our return he delivered two or three lectures in 
South Boston relating to his journey. From his 
notes for the lectures, which lie before me, I give a 
few opening jottings: 

My style — " Conversational." 
My design — " To have you see with my eyes." 
My matter — " What most folks would omit." 
So if I get eloquent it is a mistake, and you are at 
liberty to stop me short and drown it out, as is often the 
case with us speakers, " with uproarious applause." 

The effects of judicious and extensive travel ! 

Aside from health, information — its lessons of patience 
(under difficulties) — human nature. 

E. G. Sea-sickness — wife sick— myself not sick, but 
feeling " so mean that even my stomach became dis- 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 215 

gusted with me.'"' Before I was out three days I felt 
like " throwing up " the whole trip. 

THE OCEAN! 

It is all very well for Byron, canopied by the fair skies 
of Italy, and lullabied by the music of the Mediterra- 
nean, to sing, 

Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll ; 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. 

Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow ; 
Such as creation's dawn beheld — thou rollest now ! 

" No wrinkle ! "" we will call them dimples. 
" Thou rollest now ! " That's not bad. We all did 
that — we were rolled out, then we were glad to " roll 

in." 

The awful strength of the ocean, 
The desert waste of the ocean. 
The highway of nations — the pathway of nations. 

" Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee ! " Yet we saw 
but three vessels on our outward passage. 

The following are some of his letters to his chil- 
dren : 

Steamer Oceanic, Monday p.m., June 5. 

My dear Sox : This is my first attempt at writing 
since we started. We have had a splendid run thus far, 
and fully tested the sailing capacities of the Oceanic. 
Scarcely one has been sick thus far, but a considerable 
number begin to look sort of " squeamish." The ocean 
has not been as rough any hour as we have seen it on 
the Sound. * * I have been thinking of you since 
we started, and hope the Summer will pass pleasantly 



216 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 

and even quickly along. We shall have lots to tell you 
when we get back of what we saw in Europe. * * * 
Saturday, June 10. A week on the ocean ! O, what a 
sick and wo-be-gone set ! . We have tried to be jolly, 
but it was no use. I felt like " throwing up " the whole 
trip before we had been out five days. We have spent 
two or three days in bed, but we are getting better now. 
The voyage has been a splendid one for speed, and 
everything save sickness. We have seen some rough 
seas and high winds, and have had a new impression of 
the awful grandeur of the ocean, and the power and 
greatness of the infinite God. How blessed to have 
Him as your friend when feeling that imminent and ter- 
rible dangers are near. 

Liverpool, England. Here we are, safe and sound ! 
We have had some big weather. I preached on Sunday 
in the morning when the sea was quiet, but in the even- 
ing the sea rose high, and again and again made a clean 
sweep of the main decks. One of the waiters came 
near being washed overboard, but was rescued by one 
of the officers. On Thursday night we shipped a very 
heavy sea, and since then the engineer's steward has 
been missing, and no doubt he went to a sudden and 
watery grave. One night was particularly terrible to 
me, although the officers laughed at its being regarded 
as at all dangerous. Still that night the captain was 
creeping about softly until after one o'clock, and was 
still on deck when, for the second time, I went below 
though not to sleep. 

I thought of you and Lu, and Willie ; of Boston, the 
friends, and the church ! I was glad to know that if the 
ship did go down, as it seemed at one time she would, 
when she fell over on her lee side and rolled down, 
down, down, swinging, trembling down until the waters 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 217 

gurgled over her, and for a second she did not seem to 
stir ! — (It was to me fearful !) — to know that ray sins were 
forgiven — my heart changed by God's Holy Spirit — to 
know that Jesus was my friend, though I was a poor, 
miserable sinner — to know he had saved my soul ! But 
the thought of the loneliness of those I should leave 
behind me, should 1 be taken away, made me pray 
earnestly though inwardly to Him, who holds the waters 
in His hands. * * * In a few days we leave London 
direct for Home, via Paris if we can get through. 
Mamma sends love and seven kisses, and I make the 
number an even dozen. Your dear father, 

J. S. Dickerson. 

Duox, France, June 28, 1871. 

My Dear Lulu : Here we are in a real French vil- 
lage, and in a real Frenchy hotel. This place is about 
two hundred miles from Paris. We left that city at 
three o'clock in the afternoon, and reached here at mid- 
night. 

You know they have had civil war in Paris ; one part 
of the citizens rising against the other part, and men, 
women, and children have been killed in the strife. The 
fighting was done right in the streets, and all the build- 
ings in the vicinity were marked by bullets and chipped 
off, and in some cases battered like forts, and in others 
burned and a mass of ruins. If you could get hold of 
some views or descriptions of Paris, you would read 
about the magnificence of the Tuileries, the Palais Roy- 
al, the Column Yendome, and the Hotel de Ville. Well, 
they are now in indescribable ruins. I have large and 
beautiful photographs of them as they were, and as they 
are. You will see them when our voyage and rambles 
are over, and we are once more at home. I have wan- 

10 



218 JA.MES S. DICKERSOX. 

dered a good many hours looking at the gay windows of 
the shops, and at the funny sights inside and out of the 
stores. It seems quite refreshing to hear any one speak 
English. Mamma is well, and sends love. She helps us 
greatly with the French. You and Willie must learn to 
speak it. Mamma is still in bed, but I got up early to 
get these letters off. 

From another of the same date to Willie, who 
was nearly nine years old, he writes: 

My Dear Willie : I have written to Lulu in a great 
hurry and must do the same to you, but don't take this 
as a specimen of my writing ; you know I can write 
tip-top when I am not in too big a hurry. * * * 
This French business is a funny affair, I tell you. When 
we were in Paris, and were planning to go to Italy, they 
told us we ought to have a little flask of whisky or 
brandy to use if we should be suddenly taken sick. So 
I went into a store, a kind of hardware store, to 
buy one. I said, " Parlez-vous Anglais?" That 
means, " Do you speak English" — and the clerk 
shook his head, no. Then I began to make them 
understand what I wanted by a few French words 
and some gestures, and soon a pleasant smile broke over 
the face of the clerks, and they said, " Oui, oui, oui," 
that is — " Yes, yes, yes '-' — and came up bringing me a 
demijohn! I told them no, I wanted one more "petite" 
— smaller, and then they brought one about as big as a 
baby. Then I put my hand on my pocket, so as to show 
them I wanted one I could carry there — then they 
smiled all around and said, " Oui, oui," and brought me 
a small pocket cork-screw! I began to be discouraged, 
and they looked innocent and then wise, then surprised 
when I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders in 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 219 

true French stvle. Then I went over the whole case, 
and was slow and careful, and all of a sudden the whole 
matter was as plain to them as could be, and they 
exclaimed, " Oui, oui," and came back with an immense 
powder-horn! 7 7 Then I made a straight line for the 
door saying, " Pardon, pardon." That pocket-flask cost 
me much walking and talking, whenever I had a leisure 
hour. I shall have to tell you more about it. 

Here the people are very polite, and if you make all 
sorts of blunders, they don't laugh at you, unless they 
can't help it, poor souls! Two or three times when we 
have asked some one to direct us in the street, they have 
run after us to tell us we were s;oino; wrong- or to s;ive us 
fuller or better information. It almost made me cry to 
see how tender the younger people were to the old folks. 
Several times I saw young men or young women push- 
ing small carriages with old people in them. Soldiers 
are seen almost everywhere in Paris. The war is over, 
but troops are camping in all the magnificent gardens 
and parks; soldiers pace the streets, guard the ruins, 
stand sentinel in and around the churches. The people 
in religious matters are very ignorant but very devout. 
They go to church as a mere form, many of them, and 
kneel and cross themselves and bend almost to the 
ground. They are nearly all Catholics. Dear Willie, 
how favored we are that we know about Jesus, and may 
go to Him and pray to Him, feeling that He will hear 
us and make us Christians in our hearts, so that when 
we die our hearts will still love Him, though the body is 
dead, and can not kneel, or speak, or pray. I hope my 
dear Willie is often found praying to Jesus out of his 
heart. * * * 

Chambery, Fraxce, June 29, 1871. 

Dear Spexcer: Here we are on or near the boundary 
of Switzerland on our wav to Turin and Genoa, at which 



220 JAMES- S. DICKERSOX. 

latter place we expect to stay over Sunday. We are all 
usually well. I do not seem to pick up flesh as I 
expected to, but my throat and lungs have ceased to 
give me any trouble, and my cough has stopped alto- 
gether. We are making for Rome as fast as it is well 
to travel, and expect to reach there in a few days, 
unless we conclude to go from Genoa by boat. * * * 
This place is more like an Italian town than any we have 
seen in France. The people about the hotel as we came 
in last night had, to our lady folks, a regular banditti 
look, which they did not like. When we were shown to 
our rooms, the walls and steps and balustrades were 
all of solid, gloomy masonry, and when we entered 
them, we found the windows grated like those in 
prisons, and the very floors were stone. The ladies were 
thoroughly frightened; but as it was near midnight, and 
the other hotels were full, I told them philosophically 
that if they could not bring their minds to go to sleep, 

they could stay awake all night and watch each other. 
* * * 

Turin, Italy. We have reached Turin after the most 
magnificent day's ride we ever enjoyed. We have crossed 
the Alps. We came over Mt. Cenis by rail on what is 
called the Fell Railway. But the magnificent scenery! 
The deep, deep, valleys smiling in sunlit verdure — the 
awful mountains overhanging yet lost in the clouds and 
covered with perpetual snow. I send you some violets 
which grew at the base of Mt. Cenis, whose head is 
covered with eternal snow. When the sun falls on these 
snow-clad peaks they look like frosted silver, banked 
up and behind the clouds. As we were descending the 
mountain, the moon came out and touched the peaks 
and lighted the dark shadows of the valleys. * * * 
This city is one of the most beautiful and modern of 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 221 

Southern Europe; its population about 200,000. Victor 
Emanuel seems to be quite popular, and his pictures 
and busts are seen everywhere. We walked through the 
Palais Royal this morning and saw some fine pictures 
and statuary; and in the armory some grand old relics, 
among others a sword worn by the 1st Napoleon, and 
one of the eagles that was carried at the head of his 
armies. * * * 

Dear Lulu: You have written us some real good 
letters, and you deserve to have a good one from 
each of us. You must not forget to ask us to tell you 
about the Falls of Griesback — near Interlachen. The 
falls are narrow but very high, and at night the waters 
are illuminated with calcium lights of red, white and 
blue. It was very beautiful. 

To-day I went up a thickly wooded mountain on mule- 
back, and crossed the Mer-de-Glace, the broadest glacier 
near Mt. Blanc. It was a steep climb, and the crossing 
was dangerous, but it was a grand sight. I will tell you 
more about it. Then too, I must tell you about the 
strange clock at Berne — where, when the hour strikes, 
bears come out and dance, and a rooster crows, and an 
old man strikes a bell, and a monkey lifts his ears. In 
the same city was a fountain, with a statue above it, and 
on the top, a big, fat, giant, ogre-looking fellow eating 
up little children, as though they were so many raw 
oysters. One little fellow was just going down and his 
legs were sticking out of the giant's mouth; a game bag- 
held about a dozen more, and three or four more were 
fastened in his girdle. I should think the children in 
Berne would hardly dare go down that street. You 
must get hold of some nice book of travels and read 
about these things; they are as entertaining as a story, 
and far more useful, * * * 



222 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

Rome, July, 1871. 

Dear Spencer : As I have a few moments before 
breakfast I will write a few lines to you. We expect 
to be received at half-past ten this a. m. by " His 
Holiness, Pio Nono." We were there once before, but 
as our note of introduction had not been previously (at 
least one day before) sent into the old chap, he declined 
to see us; — or rather his officials declined to let us go in. 
I felt a little like telling them they were a great set of 
humbugs, from the Pope down. Our guide said, as we 
stood waiting to see whether we would be presented, 
that if we stayed in the ante- chamber where we were, we 
could see him as he passed, but could not speak to or 
shake hands with him. He added that we would have 
to kneel as he passed by. This I would not do. We 
concluded to go away, come again at the regular time, 
see him, and shake hands. 

We expect to leave to-day for Pisa — thence to Flor- 
ence and Venice, and then Switzerland. Victor Emanuel 
is doing large things for Italy, and if he is spared ten 
years and is wise, the Pope and his whole system of 
oppression, presumption, deception, and persecution will 
be mortally wounded. God bless Victor Emanuel and 
the cause of religious and political freedom in poor 
ignorant, superstitious Italy! The Pope's soldiers guard 
him at every point. We were challenged at three or' 
four doors as we carried our letter of introduction from 
our Consul. A sruard of eio-ht or ten Swiss, in sray 
uniform of yellow, black and blue, stand outside the 
room where the Pope is. They present arms (lances) 
whenever a Cardinal or Bishop passes. The Pope's 
body servants are all dressed in rich, scarlet brocade — 
silk pants, stockings, and coats — with white cravats and 
buckled shoes. I yesterday asked a guide (in fun) 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 223 

where the Pope preached ? He looked at me as though 
he would annihilate me, and said, he never preaches — 
"He is only seen in public service two or three times a 
year ! " We are all pretty well, but shall be glad to get 
out of hot, dirty and flea- cursed Italy. Poor Mamma has 
flea-bites from her sore toe to her neck. I am pretty 
well peppered — but as 1 don't scratch they soon heal 
up. Good-bye, you dear, dear boy. I feel more than 
ever how much I love you, and how deep, and constant 
is my interest in you. May God bless and keep you. 
Mamma sends love. Your dear Papa. 

Sorrento, Italy, July, 1871. 
Dear Willie : Here we are at a little village right 
across the bay from Naples. You must look the place 
out on the map. In sight is that great volcano, Mt. 
Vesuvius, and last night before going to bed I went out 
and looked at it. The evening was clear and beautiful, 
and the stars were looking out from the blue sky as 
thoug-h thev did not care how much old Vesuvius fired 
up — they were safe. The red hot lava, like a little 
mountain stream, was pouring down from the barren, 
ugly crater — like a mad giant with red hot melted iron 
running out of one corner of his mouth. To-morrow 
we may try to get up to Vesuvius and see it, but the 
ashes are so deep all over the sides of the mountain that 
it is pretty hot, hard work to climb up during these 
warm days. Mamma says she will not attempt it. When 
the travelers get up to a place called " the hermitage," 
they get off their donkeys and have to climb. But 
there are always men who will carry you up. But it 
costs twenty-five francs, or five dollars, and I hardly feel 
like giving that to be carried one hundred and fifty feet 
or so. 



224 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

The great excitement with us all now is, that we ail 
have lots of — fleas. First one bites mamma on the arm; 
then on her foot; then behind her ear, then on her back 
and limbs, and I laugh to see her scratching first one 
place and then another; and while I laugh at her, six of 
them bite me all at once. 

Sorrento is beautifully situated on the Bay of Naples, 
and we found it as cool as anywhere on the sea shore 
near Boston in July. * * * I hope you are a noble, 
good boy — not only kind and obedient to dear Grandma, 
but gentle toward all the boys, returning good for evil, 
not being selfish, always trying to be like Jesus who loved 
even His enemies. Try and love Him with all your 
heart, then what a joyful thing it will be when we come 
to die and are called up to Heaven! 

Your dear Papa. 

* * * The girls and boys here all have olive-colored 
skin and jet black hair and eyes. Very few have shoes 
or stockings ; in fact most of the men and women are 
bare-footed. If a boy gets tired and sleepy, instead of 
going home, he lies down on the pavement or in the dirt 
and has a royal good time. It makes a body's heart 
ache to see how these jDOor children are growing up in 
ignorance and misery. And yet they seem quite cheer- 
ful and haj3py. The fact is, our land is a favored one 
indeed, our children are highly favored, and it is a matter 
for which all of us should be grateful to God. Much 
more will be expected of us, than of these unfortunate 
people. 

The donkeys are an institution every where, but the 
tiniest little fellows are those we saw in Naples. They 
are not much bigger than dogs. You will sometimes 
see quite a big bunch of vegetables moving along the 
streets, and upon examining it carefully you will find the 



VISIT TO EUROPE. 225 

tail of a donkey hanging down behind. They use the 
tail to steer by. When the driver wants the donkey to 
go to the right, he pulls the animal by its tail over toward 
the left, and round swings the donkey and his load. 
I often wish I could bring one of them home. Some 
are really beautiful in their homeliness. Their owners 
frequently adorn their heads with ribbons and flowers 
and little looking-glasses. In Naples we saw milkmen 
serving milk, and how do you think it was done ? Why 
they use goats instead of cows, and then instead of 
milking* them at home and sending: the milk to the cus- 
tomer they drive the goats to the doors and milk what is 
wanted. It looks funny to see a big fellow driving four 
nice-looking goats along, and funnier still to see how 
each one has her own set of customers, and stops at just 
such doors ; goes up two or three pairs of stairs in tene- 
ment houses, and stands waiting on the landing for the 
owner to come and milk her. * * * And now, good- 
bye, dear child. Be good children, and when at night 
you kneel to pray, you must ask God for Jesus' sake to 
forgive and care for you, and take good care of us as we 
journey so far away from home and those we love. 

Your dear loving Papa. 



CHAPTER XV. 



RETURN TO BOSTON 



We returned to Boston in October, 1871. I need 
not say how cordially we were greeted, nor how 
vigorously and earnestly Mr. Dickerson, renovated 
in health, re-entered on his pastoral and pulpit 
labors. From this time until November, 1873, he 
enjoyed almost uninterrupted health, and gave him- 
self to every form of good work. He had indeed 
his occasional infirmities, as allusions in the follow- 
ing letters, which were written during this interval, 
will show. 

From a letter written to his daughter in 1873, 
from Boston : 

My dear Daughter: It is almost supper-time; — the 
house is as quiet as a church. I am alone in the study, 
and only Mary's voice breaks the stillness as she occa- 
sionally begins one of her peculiar songs. Spencer has 
not as yet come home ; Willie is out distributing 
"prohibition" ballots with my name on for "School 
Committee; " Mamma is at Music Hall, where the grand 
Fair is to be inaugurated to-night. " Rove" has just at 
this moment returned, heralding I suppose the homeward 
tendency of Will; and is now raising his " let-me-in " 
bark at the back door. We are all wagging on in the 

226 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 



227 



usual way. My eye has troubled me a good deal, and 
on Sunday my sermons were thought out rather than 
planned out with pen. I can scarcely read by gas- 
light, and I " see double " when I do — which is not 
the thing for a prohibition candidate for School Com- 




SOUTH BAPTIST CHUKCH, 

BOSTON, MASS. 



mittee. * * * I send you one of the tickets 
which the prohibition party has issued, and which 
will be voted to-morrow. Our ward polls about 500 or 
600 votes, and of these I am pretty sure to get about 
90 or 100. So all I need now is about 510 votes to elect 
me. Let our relations all know that I am thus honored 



228 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

and tell them of the brilliant prospects ahead. We 
think of having a balcony built out over the front door, 
so that I can receive delegations, serenades, etc. Tell 
our relatives our plans. Good-bye, you dear child. 
Do not forget us, and do not forget the blessed Hand 
that leads and guides and blesses us — or we go unblest. 
Give love to Uncle Sam, Aunty Grace, and all the little 
folks, from us all. I dare say you will have lots of fun 
with Carrie, for she is a darling little toad. 

Affectionately, your dear father, 

James S. Dickersox. 

A few weeks later to the same : 

I am a good deal better of my rheumatism, but have 
a terribly painful boil, brought out by using so many 
compresses, etc., on my back. I preached Sabbath 
morning and led a large and good prayer-meeting in the 
evening. Some arose for prayers, and several are 
awaiting baptism. 

TO PUS WIFE. 

New York, April 10, 1873. 
I have just read your last dear letter, and will 
take the present time to answer it, though it may 
render the note a brief one. I have just left Dr. 
Fulton, who gives me the last intelligence of home and 
the dear ones that make it the spot of all others 
the dearest on earth. I do not wonder that men and 
women make short cuts to " the dogs " — when they have 
no home, or when home is not home. I think no man is 
beyond reach who still feels the influence of some home 
power. * * * As you said nothing of the sick ones 
in the church, \ trust they are all getting along. Hanson 
Place Church would like to have Fulton come on and 



RETURX TO BOSTON. 229 

start a sort of Tremont Temple affair in Brooklyn. He 
seems somewhat inclined to come. They say that Lor- 
imer will come here too. Several have been talking to 
me about changing 1 , with a better salary, etc. But unless 

SO 7 o ' 

my health should demand it I do not feel at all disposed 
to leave my present field or church. When I look back 
I can not praise gratefully enough that surprising grace 
and care of the blessed Saviour in leading such a poor, 
wicked, and homeless orphan by a way so mysterious 
to honors and success so undeserved and — by every body 
— so unexpected. There is no church so small or so 
unimportant that I should not have felt — twenty-five 
years ago — to be a splendid field, and a gratification to 
my highest ambition. If I can only with true simplicity 
of heart and true devotion to Christ keep serving Him 
where He wants me to be, it will be a great thing for me 
when life's confines shall have been reached, and life's 
work done. 

I am o-lad cousin Lulu is with you. Don't work that 
sewino* machine again until I get home. When that 

o o o 

back breaks T want to be around to save the various, 
precious fragments. Take it easy. I would much 
rather pay a sewing girl, and it would be to your com- 
fort and economy in every respect. Kiss the children 
for me. Remember me to " Rove " and tell him to see 
to things a little. God bless you. I send you a little 
flower. 

In November, 1873, Mr. Dickerson took a severe 
cold, and was prostrated by a painful rheumatic 
fever, which confined him for several weeks to the 
house. He was soon, however, out again and labor- 
ing beyond his strength. Meetings were being held, 
many were inquiring after the way of salvation; 



230 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

and Mr. Dickerson, with but partially recovered 
strength, and feeling some recurring twinges of his 
former trouble, yet could not but yield himself with 
all his powers to the exigency. By day he visited 
amidst snow and mud those who needed counsel and 
encouragement, and was out nearly every evening 
till a late hour in the public meetings. He was 
remonstrated with by his brethren, who begged him 
to remain at home on the stormy nights — but in 
vain. His heart was in the meetings, and he would 
drag thither his body until his strength was well 
nigh spent. 

In February our little Gracie was born, and as 
soon as I was able to go out, I accompanied him to 
the meetings, often when I felt scarcely strength to 
do so, for the purpose of forcing him away from the 
church in which he would otherwise stay talking 
with the anxious and inquiring too late into the night. 
His throat too troubled him and it hurt him to sing. 
Bat the sinoincr dragged if he did not lead it, and 
the temptation to do so was too strong for him to 
resist. He would sometimes promise me, when start- 
ing for the service that, this time, for his throat's 
sake he would refrain ; but when on his return 
I said to him, "I suppose you kept your promise," 
he would reply, "I sang every time and I couldn't 
help it." 

But this will-power at length failed him. One 
stormy afternoon he had been out until six o'clock 
making visits, and came in looking pale and haggard. 
He ate his supper, and then went up stairs and 
threw himself on the bed, saying, " I will rest a few 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 231 

minutes before going to meeting." He looked so 
sick that I begged him not to go, but yield the care 
of the meeting to others. He at first insisted on 
going to look after the converts and inquirers, but 
at last yielded to my importunities, and as I pro- 
posed to write a note to one of the Deacons he said, 
" Well, send him word; I suppose I ought to stay." 
As he undressed and got into bed he remarked, 
" Yes, darling, you were right. lam sick, and ought 
not to have been out this afternoon." The next 
morning he was in a high fever, which was followed 
by a second attack of rheumatism. He did not leave 
the house for seven weeks, or enter his pulpit again 
for three months. His people were all kindness and 
attention, manifesting the tenderest sympathy over 
his illness, and assuring him by formal committees 
that they would freely give him six months for 
recovery, and relieve him from every need of anxiety 
about the church. 

As soon as he was able to go out he went to New 
York, and spent a few weeks. I quote from a few 
letters written during this visit. 

Stated Island, May, 1874. 
My dear Emma : You are getting ahead of me in the 
matter of letters, and T shall have to keep at it, or fall 
to the rear. It has been a great satisfaction to hear 
so often and have such favorable tidings from home. 1 
do feel grateful to God for all the past, and for the 
auspicious outlook of our home affairs. More and more 
I am convinced that we are favored far beyond the 
average of families. My home is happier, my dear darling- 
wife is sweeter, and my children are better, and better 



232 JAMES S. DICKEBSOX. 

behaved, than any I find in my travels. And I very 
freelv acknowledge how much we owe to the loving 
efficiency of "dear Mamma." Although I am getting 
along very comfortably, I shall indeed be glad when I 
can properly and safely turn my footsteps toward home. 
* * * I am looking forward to home and to Campton 
with almost childish lono;ino;s! 

From another written the same week from Dr. 
Fulton's in Brooklyn, we quote a few sentences : 
" The great Jubilee at Hanson Place came off last 
night, and was indeed a perfect success. It showed 
that a man or a church can afford to be talked against 
and defamed — when standing for the truth. The 
solid men in the ministry of our church, as well as 
some of our more prominent laymen were on the plat- 
form to endorse brother Fulton as one whom we hon- 
ored for his fearless and outspoken defense of Baptist 
principles. * * * I was fairly obliged to make a 
short speech about half-past ten o'clock. I got to 
bed about half-past eleven o'clock, but did not sleep 
until daylight. Still I feel pretty well, and as the 
weather was rainy or cloudy yesterday, I am grate- 
ful that I am so well this morning. If I can only 
get back a strong voice once more — and I am quite 
hopeful — I think I am good for considerable service 
yet, but perhaps not in rigorous New England. 
Several friends have been talking to me about 
churches in which they are interested, and Mr. Good- 
man, of the Chicago Standard, wants to talk with 
me about an interest with him. 

" But, it may be, God has a work for me to do 
right where He has placed me, and it is far the wiser 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 233 

way to await His unfolded will. I am ready to do 
it — that will be the happiest as well as the most 
profitable path which is marked out by Him. 

" Next week I shall spend in a more business-like 
way and see a number of friends, then get ready to 
go home, the best and the happiest part of the plan. 
* * * I am glad all things are passing pleasantly 
there. Let us be grateful ! Give love to all. My 
home is more and more to me every time I go 
away. But Dr. Fulton is coming to take me out 
driving, so good-bye." 

New York, May 29, 1874. 
My dear Wife : I spent Wednesday night and all 
Thursday at Staten Island, brother Sam, and Grace and 
little Carrie going along. We had a very pleasant time, 
and T am expecting to spend two or three days with 
them next week. The place is in its most beautiful and 

fragrant spring attire. 's baby is simply a bouncer 

— nine months old, and weighs twenty-three or twenty- 
four pounds. Its name is Harriet, but it ought to called 
Harry, for it looks like a boy, and I keep saying " he " 
and " him " all the time. Mary looks tired out, and 
I thought if she could have a rest from the continual 
din and worry of her nursery work, it would be a coveted 
blessing. These devoted mothers — dear souls, have 
their hands full. I was very glad to get your letter 
when I returned from Staten Island; in fact, I was think- 
ing about it all that day. It is good to hear from the 
dear ones at home, and to think of them as so full of 
goodness and love, you long to clasp them in your arms. 
What a poor world this would be were it not for love, 
and the hearts and homes which it irradiates and makes 
joyous. 

10* 



234 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

I am gaining in flesh and in strength. My appetite is 
fair, and I am slowly getting back to my old average. 
My throat is less improved, but I think, better. * * * 
Give love to all and kisses freely, beginning with little 
Grace, and keeping a beautiful selection for your dear 
self from a loving and appreciative husband. * * * 

After spending a Sabbath. at the same place he 
wrote again Monday morning : " It rained hard all 
night, but it is bright and clear to-clay ; still, fearing 
the dampness I stay in-doors. Leonard and Mary 
went to church in the morning, but I was at home 
all day. I read, and walked, and thought of you. 
A spring Sabbath in the country is a very enjoyable 
and profitable season. I could not help thinking 
of my church and people, and longed for the time 
when I could preach again, and see the work of the 
Lord prosperously advancing. It seems a terribly 
long time since I left home ; I can hardly realize 
that it is less than two weeks. I shall be glad to 
turn my footsteps homeward. 

" This is the first of June ! The Summer is here, 
and before we fully realize it, it will be gone. I am 
hoping for much improvement in my general health 
from our quiet stay in Campton. I think my visit 
here is as good for me as anything could be. They 
are all very kind and allow me to do just as I please. 
* * * About the swimming, tell Will he had 
better wait until Spencer or Ubert or some older 
person can go with him. When I return I will give 
him chances enough. I think I am a model husband 
in the way of letter-writing.'' * * * 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 235 

Another, written a few days later, still shows his 
hopeful spirit, and his longing to be at work again, 
although he was utterly unfitted for it. He writes : 
" The rain to-day disarranges all my plans — but it's 
all right. If I can not get to Dr. Fulton's to-night, 
I shall be on the safe side, and will go when it clears. 
I feel quite like myself again — all but this little 
troublesome bronchial hack. I think Dr. Thayer or 
Dr. Cullis could relieve that, now that I am stronger. 
Perhaps it would be well to announce next Sunday 
that I expect to be present the following Sabbath, 
and perhaps preach a part of the day. I can walk 
almost as well as ever. I sleep fairly; but I must 
take things very easy for some time to come. Rest, 
however, I am quite confident will bring me all right 
in time, for I think there is really no settled disease 
about me. The good Lord will bring it all right I 
am sure. You can not long to have me back any 
more intensely than I desire to get back ; and but 
for the feeling that I had better not, I should have 
turned up at home by this time." 

Soon after Mr. Dickerson's return from New York, 
we all went to Campton, N. H. We spent seven 
weeks in that beautiful region delightfully and 
healthfully. Yet during all this time he was slowly 
growing worse. The rheumatism seemed to have 
settled in his left knee, which was very much 
inflamed, and failed to grow better in spite of all 
our remedies. Still, amidst the thronging guests of 
the house there was none livelier, happier or more 
entertaining than my husband. He was at all times 
full of hope, and indulged often the belief that he 



236 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

was really better and might yet anticipate another 
good year's work in Boston. The Autumn, however, 
found him more lame, his throat more troublesome, 
and "this little bronchial hack " mentioned in one 
of his letters, becoming painfully noticeable. In 
November it became evident to him that he must 
resign his place and for a while relinquish preaching. 
His knee had become so inflamed that it was with 
difficulty that he could walk the short distance from 
his house to his church, and although the carriages 
of his friends were at his disposal for this purpose 
and for pastoral visiting, yet of course it was out of 
the question to carry forward in this way the pastoral 
care of a large church. His throat too was so weak 
that he was often obliged to procure a supply for the 
pulpit, and alike to his own sorrow and that of a 
people devotedly attached to him, it became manifest 
that his labors with them must cease. The struggle 
within his own heart of surrendering his cherished 
life-work, can be known only by those who have 
had the like experience. 

In this emergency the providence of God opened 
to him a field of action, the next in interest and 
importance to that which he was quitting, and all 
the more welcome, as it was precisely that in which 
he had already had many years of happy experience. 
In New York he had been for four years associated 
with Dr. M. B. Anderson in the management of the 
New York Recorder ; in Philadelphia he had had for 
years the care of the Chronicle, and thus large portions 
of his mature life had been given to religious jour- 
nalism. A similar opening now invited his footsteps 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 237 

to the great and rising metropolis of the West. Mr. 
Goodman, one of the proprietors of the Standard, 
in Chicago, had corresponded with Mr. Dickerson in 
regard to purchasing half the paper which his partner, 
Mr. Leroy Church, wished to sell. Mr. Dickerson 
had, however, not seriously entertained the question, 
hoping that even if unable to bear the rigors of a 
New England climate, he might continue the work 
if he lived in a more genial region. He had written, 
therefore, to Mr. Goodman to " count him out" and 
seek another purchaser. The latter, however, de- 
clined to follow his advice, but cherished the hope 
of yet having him as his associate in Chicago. And 
just about this time, early in November, when Mr. 
Dickerson was coming to the slow and reluctant 
conclusion that he must for a time be utterly debarred 
from pastoral labor, he received another pressing 
letter on the subject from Mr. Goodman. The result 
was that, late in November Mr. Dickerson went out 
to Chicago, to look over the property and determine 
his course of duty. It began to look like a marked 
and gracious Providence that was opening to him a 
path of Christian usefulness with hand and brain 
while resting his throat and limb. He felt, too, 
naturally drawn to a sphere of labor with which 
were linked so many delightful associations of the 
past. From Chicago he wrote the folloAving letter 

to his son : 

Chicago, Dec. 4, 1874. 

My dear Willie : I was quite surprised to hear of 
the arrival of the "measles." I knew them well some 
years ago. It is a good thing to have them early. But 



238 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 

you must be very careful not to expose yourself for 
some time after you feel well. The disease weakens 
for awhile all our internal organism — the mucus mem- 
brane — the ceretras organs — the oesophagus, the alimen- 
tary canal — and the entire nervitine salitudes, duode- 
nums, etc., are all more or less involved, and you see how 
it is. (Willie was studying physiology at this time, and 
talked a great deal about the functions of various parts 
of the body, etc.) One chill within a week after you are 
pretty well, might give you a permanent weakness. So 
you must be patient and careful. 

I have just this moment had a telegram from dear 
Mamma that you are getting on nicely. Thank the dear 
Saviour for your improvement. I hope He will care for 
you, and that you will love Him. He is my only reliance. 
When trouble, sickness, age, death come on, then I 
think of my hope in Him. It never fails. Do yield 
yourself — your love — your will to Jesus. That is all ; 
that is being a Christian. Then we never can be sep- 
arated even by death ; " we still are joined in heart, and 
hope to meet again." What a blessed thing it would 
be for Lulu and you and Cliff and Ed. to become Chris- 
tians! I think if you led the way it might be so! 
Perhaps by your not leading, they may never get to 
Heaven, even if you should yet reach that happy place. 
Christians are happy ; christians are in the line of duty ; 
christians are safe. May God incline your heart to 
decide now. 

I am working away to see what will come of this 
Standard matter. It looks as though we might yet live 
in Chicago, and I think we might be very happy out 
here. Loring Cheney is in the Sophomore class of the 
University, here. * * * Hoping you are getting 



RETURX TO BOSTOX. 239 

toward convalescence, and will be careful, and with 
much love to dear Mamma, Spencer, Lulu and Graeie, 
I am, Affectionately your father, 

James S. Dickerson. 

The result of this and a subsequent visit was the 
purchase of a half interest in the Standard on the 
first of January, 1875, and our removal to Chicago 
in the middle of the February following. 

The leaving Boston was made by some special 
circumstances peculiarly trying. Mr. Dickerson could 
rejoice, indeed, that he was leaving his people in the 
midst of a refreshing revival, yet it was a heavy 
trial that he could attend few of their meetings, 
could lead none of the converts down into the bap- 
tismal waters, and take scarcely any share in the 
public labors in which his soul delighted. As quietly 
and patiently as might be he had to nurse his infir- 
mities at home, and rejoice that the gracious Master 
could carry on the work without him. He did rejoice 
and kept his spirit, in helpless but loving confidence. 

Finally, one effort must be made. The farewell — 
the "word which must be and hath been " must be 
uttered. On a Sabbath on which Rev. Dr. Gardner 
preached for him, Mr. Dickerson was taken to the 
church, walked tremblingly to the pulpit, and 
leaning over it, said to his people a few words of 
farewell. He was too weak to trust himself to any 
utterance of the tender emotions, to any dwelling 
upon the tender memories which the occasion inspired 
and which came crowding upon his heart. He could 
scarcely venture beyond the commonplaces of 



240 TIMES S. DICKERSOX. 

pastoral exhortation, in urging them to keep up their 
prayer-meetings, fill their places on the Sabbath, 
even when their leader was gone, and work on 
courageously under the assurance that the Lord 
would in due time supply their need. He thanked 
them for their great kindness to him, spoke for a few 
minutes of his plans and hopes, asked a continuance 
of their prayers for him — prayers, "not sad and 
.despairing, but hopeful,* ' and with tearful smiles 
bade them good-bye. There was no dry eye in the 
house. The congregation understood the struggle 
which was masked by the calm cheerfulness of his 
manner, and if they did not "fall on his neck and 
kiss him," they sorrowed deeply in their hearts with 
the thought that they should probably hear his voice 
and " see his face no more/' And their apprehen- 
sions were realized. Soon after leaving them he was 
a hopeless invalid, and in about a jeav had become 
a resident of the better but unseen land. 

Mr. Dickerson felt that, perhaps, his best work was 
done in Boston. When he entered upon his labors 
there, in the spring of 1870, the church was bur- 
dened with a debt of over twenty-six thousand 
dollars, and it was only with a struggle that they 
could pay the interest on this, and at the same time 
meet their current expenses. The Lord blessed his 
ministry so abundantly, and the church was so thor- 
oughly united in him, that, at the close of the first 
year, not only had the congregation constantly 
increased, but by the accession of new members the 
church was strengthened, both spiritually and finan- 
cially ; the increased expenses were easily met, and 



RETURN TO BOSTON. 241 

something was done toward liquidating the debt. 
While this result commanded the warmest gratitude 
to God for so large a blessing, the many tokens of 
love, on the part of his people, their confidence, sym- 
pathy, and active support, the numerous and cordial 
expressions of appreciation, kindled a like grateful 
feeling toward those whom he served, and made his 
pastorate in Boston a continual joy. 

The change of the preaching service from the 
afternoon so increased the attendance that Mr. 
Dickerson was soon preaching to the largest Baptist 
congregation in Boston, with a single exception — 
that of Tremont Temple. Few were aware of the 
sense of responsibility which weighed upon his heart, 
as he tried to preach Christ to these audiences of a 
thousand immortal souls. His heart was fully in the 
work, and it was often remarked by his people, as 
they left one of these solemn and inspiring services : 
" It seems like coming from a heavenly atmosphere 
down to an earthly one again." When, in our con- 
versation, as we walked homeward, I spoke in praise 
of the sermon, his reply would be — and I now 
vividly recall the look and the expression: "Did I 
make the points clear, and do you think it will do 
good?" He preached, "not himself, but Christ 
Jesus the Lord." He sought, not praises, but souls. 
At the close of his first year, nearly seventy had 
been added to the church, and at almost every com- 
munion he had the joyful privilege of welcoming 
the newly baptized. 

From the time of his return from Europe, with 
vigor renewed, until he was obliged to give up his 
11 



242 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

cherished work, in 1875, the membership continued 
to increase, and the church steadily prospered. The 
Sabbath-school, with its corps of earnest, intelligent 
teachers, and its devoted superintendents, had grown 
largely in numbers and in influence. The prayer- 
meetings were invariably a feast to those who 
attended them — young and old — while the voices 
of inquirers and young converts were often heard 
there. The ladies' circles and sociables were quoted 
everywhere as models of their kind ; and the debt, 
a large one for such a church, was all subscribed 
before Mr. Dickerson left, and completely extin- 
guished in a short time after his removal to Chicago. 
Meantime, other claims were not forgotten. The 
missionary enterprises of the denomination, the tem- 
perance cause, every form of public interest, with 
the claims of Christian benevolence, commanded his 
active support and that of his church. Even while 
the process of paying the debt went forward, the 
contributions of the church to various objects were 
larger in amount than ever before. 

Mr. Dickerson often preached in the pulpits of his 
Congregational and Methodist brethren, while at the 
social reunions, and in all gatherings of Baptists, no 
one was welcomed more cordially or heard more 
gladly than he. I am confident that all hearts 
responded to the words of Dr. Lorimer, at the 
memorial services held in the church at South Bos- 
ton, after his death, when he said: " What Dr. 
Dickerson was to j^ou, your sorrow witnesses ; what 
he was to the denomination in this vicinity, can 
never be truly estimated." 



CHAPTER XVI. 



CHICAGO. 



Our removal to Chicago was in February, 1875. 
The city had sprung up Phoenix-like from the 
ashes of its great conflagration, and was shining 
in its superb beauty, an exemplification beyond 
any other American city, of the energetic and 
indomitable character of American enterprise. The 
Standard which, like every other interest, had 
seemed temporarily overwhelmed by the great ocean 
of flame that had swept over the city, had partially 
recovered, and was starting under favorable auspices 
on its new course. Mr. Dickerson's reception here 
was most cordial and fraternal. Congratulatory 
letters came to him from all quarters, and the Bap- 
tists of the Northwest, friends of the paper, felt new 
hope and encouragement for all their enterprises in 
the coming of one so widely known as a loj-al 
Baptist, an efficient and wide-awake editor, and an 
equally earnest and judicious supporter of every 
good cause. Mr. Goodman, his partner, gave us, a 
few days after our arrival, a most delightful reception 
at the Brevoort House, where we were stopping. 
Nearly one hundred and fifty representative Baptists 
were present, and Mr. Dickerson received his public 
and formal introduction to the friends and brethren 

243 



244 JAMES S. DICKEKSOX. 

with whom he was to be associated. He was scarcely 
able to be present, and many remarked how ill he 
looked. Yet he spoke with animation, and returned 
their greetings with all his accustomed geniality. 
The occasion, however, over, as we retired to our 
apartments he dropped exhausted into his chair, say- 
ing "I am sick, and have hardly the strength and life 
to go to bed." But the next morning he was up, 
started cheerfully forth for his work, and with 
buoyant spirit but halting step, made his way over 
the icy pavements to the office. By those who had 
been familiar with the rapid and eager tread of 
former years he would scarcely be recognized in his 
slow and careful steps, and feeble look. For about 
three weeks he forced his way to the office through 
the wind and sleet and rain of severe March weather. 
He spoke at Social Unions, and attended various 
public gatherings, declaring that he was " not going 
to act sick any more," and trusting that he should 
soon be better. 

A letter written to his sister (Mrs. Van Dusen) 
at this time will show his condition better than I can 
describe it. 

Chicago, March 15, 1875. 
Dear Grace: All the family are at church save Gracie 
and myself. A bad grip of the rheumatism on my well 
side has doubled me right up, and I am crawling around 
like a lobster. I o-et so discouraged at times that I want 
to get away from everybody and just bawl for an hour. 
I am hoping that the warm weather will be helpful for me 
every way. My bad knee is rather better I think — 
though there is no great change. For a few days my 



CHICAGO. 245 

bronchitis has been worse, and I have been threatened 
with pneumonia. I coughed badly in the morning; could 
not lie on my right side for the lung was too sensitive; 
and could not lie long on my left, or my heart would 
begin to thump. I was away from the office from Monday 
until Friday. But I am better of all this — it probably 
came from a cold which went the usual way with me, 
beginning with slight catarrhal symptoms and then work- 
ing down to my bronchia. As I think of my feeble 
condition for the past months I can only look upon my 
preservation from a terrible sickness as of God's special 
mercy. I only fear that I stood at my post as a preacher 
of the gospel too long. If I did, it was with the best of 
motives, and if in this life, I feel its disadvantages — in 
the next, I shall have the reward. So it's all right. 

/am happy about it. Should it be necessary for me 
to go to a more genial clime, it's a great comfort to know 
that Colorado, " the invalid's Paradise," is but a two 
days' ride from here. But I am quite hopeful of a decided 
improvement. I am doing just what work I can do 
easily — going to the office when I please, staying as long 
as I feel like it. I can do easily and without much 
mental outlay what is needed on the Standard — i. e., 
short, spicy, editorial paragraphs — remarks in brief about 
religious and secular things, etc., etc. My partner is as 
careful to have me save myself as Emma is, frequently 
advising me to remain at home and work if the weather 
is unfavorable. So the dear Lord has made a place for 
me wonderfully adapted to all my weaknesses, and yet 
utilizing all my strength. I praise Him continually. 

Thus far our business matters have been quite encourag- 
ing. * * * I know that a minister of the Gospel, 
broken in the service at my age, must not expect much 
besides a bare living — he is favored if he gets that. 



246 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

Ministers in their prime are favored indeed; — ministers 
used up, have a sad, hard life. * * * Emma, dear 
soul, has her hands full, taking care of a little well baby, 
and a big sick one. Still she shows no sign of giving 
up, and never looked better. We have much attention 
shown us, and find many old friends to greet us. Emma 
has just come in and sends love to you, and uncle Sam, 
and the children, in which I cordially join. The Lord 
bless you all. Your brother, James. 

I scarcely need say how happy were Mr. Dicker- 
son's relations with his new associates. His business 
partner, Mr. Goodman, speedily won from him that 
cordial love and respect which his excellent Chris- 
tian character, genial manners, and great business 
capacity could not fail to command from the entire 
Christian public. His associate editor, was Dr. J. A. 
Smith, who for nearly a quarter of a century had the 
editorial conduct of the paper, and by his uniformly 
sound and correct judgment, by the breadth and 
justness of his views, and the blended- firmness and 
moderation with which he maintained them, had 
brought the Standard into the very front rank of 
religious journalism, and fairly secured to himself 
the title of "the Model Editor." Associated with 
such men, so thoroughly congenial in spirit and 
temper, he began his labors under the happiest 
auspices — happiest, except as darkened by the 
one cloud of physical infirmity which was now 
sternly gathering over his prospects, and which 
refused to be dispelled even by his strong will and 
buoyant hopefulness. Equableness of spirit, serenity 
of temper, hoping trustfulness, a resolution that 



CHICAGO. 247 

rises above weakness and quails at no obstacles, may 
push far into the future the day of final physical 
discomfiture. But it will come at last. Decay is 
inwrought into our nature ; and however we may 
postpone, we can not finally avert it. Mr. Dickerson 
became at last obliged to confine himself to the 
house and send for a physician. " My wife," said he, 
" thought I had better see you, Doctor. But there 
is nothing much the matter with me. I am just a little 
worn down and overworked, but I shall come out all 
right." But it was the beginning of a third attack 
of rheumatic fever, and he was not dressed again for 
nearly a month, nor indeed until the night in which 
we started for a journey of seven hundred miles to 
Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

Some serious obstacles to our going thither were 
removed by the interposition of generous friends. 
Dr. and Mrs. Cheney kindly offered to take two of 
the children to their house and care for them during 
our absence ; while my sister, Mrs. Barton, living in 
the city, made the same generous offer for the little 
one year old baby and her nurse. Three little babies, 
one after another, we had laid away forever, and 
now we parted in sadness from the elder children, 
but sorely apprehensive that from the delicate little 
nurseling our parting was final. Mr. Dickerson was 
unable to stand, and at every change had to be lifted 
to and from the cars. Sick as he was, yet on the 
railway, with the aid of the sleeping cars, he was 
tolerably comfortable. The railroad route, however, 
came to an end, and the last thirty miles of the 
journey had to be traversed over roads whose rough- 



248 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

ness and wildness could scarcely have been looked 
for even in the interior of Arkansas. At four o'clock 
on a raw cold morning, having sought in vain for 
any palatable food, we set off in a dilapidated, 
springless hack, and jolting over rocks and trunks of 
trees, fording streams, plunging through " sloughs 
of despond " and despair, over a road of which not 
one quarter of a mile was smooth, we made our 
comfortless and often perilous way to our place of 
destination. To Mr. Dickerson the journey was a 
continuous torture. Using his hands as springs to 
keep his body from the hard unyielding seat, until 
his wrists seemed ready to break, and yet tossing 
violently with the movements of the huge vehicle, 
he rode for thirty miles in an agony which only the 
utmost heroism could endure. No wonder that when 
we reached the huge barn-like building which bore 
the mocking title of the Grand Central Hotel, and 
he was lifted from the wagon, the people who gath- 
ered round supposed that he had come there just to 
die. Their faces and their manner told their con- 
viction that I was ministering to a dying husband. 

Still life was strong within him, and from an ordeal 
that might have seemed to threaten even a stronger 
man, he rallied. We remained there two months, and 
he in every way grew better. He could walk with 
crutches, had more appetite, rode out a little, and 
finally returned to Chicago considerably encouraged, 
though disappointed as to the thorough curative 
efficacy of the medicinal waters. To some friends 
who bade him good-bye as he started for the Springs, 
he had said, " I shall come back soon and skip up 



CHICAGO. 249 

the stairs three steps at a time." He shrunk now 
from meeting them when with difficulty he walked 
on crutches. In truth the fountains of life were 
sapped, and the mineral waters could not resupply 
them. They could mitigate symptoms, could give 
some of the outward showings of health, but left 
the cause and hidden virus of his disease unreached. 

We spent the following Summer in Highland Park, 
a beautiful suburban town, built on a bluff, seventy 
feet above the lake. The place was delightful, but 
the Summer was a sad one to us all. Mr. Dickerson's 
knee grew more and more inflamed, and more and 
more painful until it was torture to be moved. He 
had to submit to some severe operations, and suffered 
so excruciatingly that morphia alone could give him 
cessation from pain or rest in sleep. 

From a letter written from that place to his uncle 
James Stokes, after several eminent surgeons had 
seen him and deemed it probable that, in order to 
live, he must suffer the amputation of that limb, we 
quote some sentences : 

Highland Park, Aug. 2-4, 1875. 
My dear ILs-cle: This is the first day since I received 
your letter that I have been able to write ; now it is 
under many difficulties, as I am bolstered up in bed with 
pillows at my back, my knee and my feet. J ache in 
every muscle from my waist downward. Still I call 
myself "quite comfortable " — whenever 1 am not thrilled 
through and through with tormenting pains. 1 have 
suffered somewhat less since my leg was lanced, and 
discharged so much blood and matter. * * * My 
doctors, both allopaths and homeopaths, agree that the 
great thing to be done is to increase my general health. 



250 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

They say, "Improve your appetite, be out in the open 
air, and build up your general health." This is rather 
cheap advice to a poor, weak soul on crutches, who can 
not move without a pang, and can not eat or sleep with 
any satisfaction. In regard to an amputation — while all 
have told me that it was possible to happen, no one has 
said that it was at all certain. The nearest they came to 
it was to say that amputation would save me a world of 
suffering, and could be more safely endured now than at 
any future time. But they did not advise it positively. 
As the leg belonged to me, I quietly concluded I would 
try many expedients before I would give it up, and my 
family doctor is working on that plan. The case is not- 
one for medicine, but for general treatment. Thank 
Cousin James for his interest in the matter, and for the 
kind letters and information he has sent me. 

But I must stop. Give love to all the dear ones at 
Madison Avenue, not forgetting Dora and the baby. 
Pray for us all — we greatly need it. I fear sometimes 
that Emma will break down under her cares and troubles, 
which never stop, day or night. I know prayer has 
been answered in my behalf in the weary painful watches 
of the night, when I was so exhausted and bewildered 
with suffering that I could only plead His promise, 
" Come — and I loill give you rest." From every direction 
I get letters of sympathy, and the tidings come that my 
friends all over the land, in Philadelphia, Boston, New 
York, Wilmington, and Pittsburgh, are remembering me 
in prayer. I expect to come out of this great distress! 
But how glorious the thought that even dying is a victory 
in my case, wrought out through the blessed Saviour! 
He is my Friend, and has been ever since He forgave 
me my sins, and took me, a poor orphan boy in the 
Bowery, and put His Holy Spirit into my heart. I love to 



CHICAGO. 251 

preach His gospel, and am glad that my best strength 
has been thus spent, and that His blessed smile has 
covered so much of my poor efforts. How I would love 
to preach again this sweet gospel of the grace of God ! 
But it is all right with me, whatever happens. All 
things work together, etc., etc. Dear Emma sends her 
love. Your grateful but suffering nephew, 

James S. Dickerson. 

During these months of suffering Mr. Dickerson 
was generally hopeful, and kept himself readily open 
to every available source of enjoyment. He rode 
occasionally in an easy carriage ; enjoyed constantly 
the open air while sitting well wrapped and read- 
ing the papers on the porch ; while often bolstered 
up in chair or bed, he would write for the Standard. 
His head was clear and free from pain, for which he 
often expressed gratitude ; he read much, was always 
entertaining, and vivacious in conversation. During 
this time he was up and dressed a part of the day ; 
would walk up and clown the parlors on his crutches, 
and cheer his friends with the playful assurance that 
he should disappoint the doctors and was not going 
to die. But in August his knee became much worse ; 
he was weak and wasted, and suffered incessantly ; 
and the physicians and surgeons who visited him 
from Chicago, talked more of an amputation which 
they began to think inevitable. Early in September 
we came to our house in Chicago, and Mr. Dickerson 
was carried in a chair from the carriage into the house 
which he never left until his last remove from any 
earthly dwelling. 

His sufferings during the next month were intense, 



252 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

but scarcely suspected by those occasional visitors 
from whom his cheerful manner effectually disguised 
them. The slightest moving of his leg became 
torture, and at length physicians and surgeons alike 
agreed that the only hope of prolonging his life lay 
in amputating the limb, while all were quite confi- 
dent that this would lead to a permanent recovery. 
His mind made up to submit to the operation, he said 
to the doctor, " Now that I have come to the con- 
clusion, the sooner it is off the better; I should be 
glad to have it done to-day." 

The "day" speedily came, and on the seventh of 
October the sad operation was accomplished. Mem- 
ory dwells upon every step of the agonizing scene, 
but we spare the reader the painful details. Through 
all the preparations he lay on the bed peaceful and 
apparently happy. He talked with the physician 
who sat beside him, with smiles on his face, and when 
I came with streaming eyes — for I could not remain 
in the room — he said, " This is not the time to cry, 
darling. I expect soon to be more free from pain 
than I have been for weeks." But to sit in an 
adjoining room, following with ear and imagina- 
tion the successive stages of the process, was agony 
indescribable. Blessed fruit of modern science, 
that the most deeply interested was the least con- 
scious sufferer ! " Is my leg off? How strange that I 
did not know it ! " were among the exclamations 
with which he greeted my return to his bedside. 

The first few weeks following the operation were 
days of sorrow and anxiety. He lay in a darkened 
room, scarcely seeing the family, while through 



CHICAGO. 253 

day and night we watched his slow recovery 

from so terrible a shock. His acute suite ring was 

less than before the amputation, except during the 

dressing, and sometimes the agonizing probing, of 

his limb ; but he suffered from intense prostration, 

profuse sweating, resulting from the taking of the 

ether, and in various other ways. He would lie for 

hoars almost utterly silent and so nervously depressed 

that he could endure the presence of no persons in 

his room except his physicians and myself. 

The news of his sufferings was met by almost 

universal sympathy, and letters of tender interest 

came from almost every quarter, which, so soon as he 

was able to read them, awoke constantly the deepest 

gratitude. Those, especially of his sister Mrs. Van 

Dusen, with their affectionate sisterly interest, were 

to him as a healing balm. From an assemblage of 

his ministering brethren with whom he had been 

associated in Boston came the following expression 

of sympathy: 

Boston, Oct. 25, 1875. 

Rev. J. S. Dickerson, D. I). — Dear Brother: At the 
meeting of the Baptist ministers of Boston this morning, 
on motion of Rev. Dr. Lorimer a resolution of sym- 
pathy with you in your present trial, and of affectionate 
remembrance in our prayers, was passed by a rising and 
unanimous vote. 

Hoping the Lord will speedily restore you to serve 
Him in your new field of labor with that acceptance which 
endeared you to all hearts in this vicinity, we remain, 

Yours as ever, 
The Baptist Ministers' Conference of Boston. 
For the Conference. 

H. F. Barnes, Clerk. 



254 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

One letter in particular, received about this time, 
was cordially welcomed. It came from one who had 
never seen him, but who, having in the service of 
his country made a similar surrender of one of 
his limbs, could thoroughly appreciate the bereave- 
ment which he had experienced, and could give both 
the sympathy of a kindly and Christian heart, and 
the practical suggestions and consolations of one who 
had gone through the like terrible ordeal. With its 
sympathetic, yet hopeful and cheering tone it came 
to him amidst the sad weeks following the amputa- 
tion, doubly welcome. 

Portland, Maine, Oct. 27, 1875. 

Rev. J. S. Dickeksox, D.D. — My dear Brother: I am 
a stranger to you, but I must write you a few words. I 
see by the papers that you have been compelled to suffer 
the loss of a leg. I need not say that I sympathize with 
you deeply, since I have passed through the same expe- 
rience, having lost my left leg, above the knee, at the 
battle of Chancellorsville. 

But I do not write to condole with you, but to cheer 
you; to welcome you to the noble army of Monopeds. 
We are neither few, nor of small consequence. As 
good men as the sun shines on sport the wooden leg in 
every city of the land. "We welcome another to our 
number. Don't get discouraged. I hope the Lord will 
spare your life and that you will live to appreciate how 
much art can do to help you. I have worn a wooden leg 
for eleven years; can stand as long, and walk as far, and 
do as much pastoral work as any other man. I find it 
no hindrance even in baptizing. To be sure I can't run 
to a fire, or chase a horse-car, but then I save proportion- 
ally in dignity. 



CHICAGO. 255 

May the Lord give you grace and patience in your 
trial, and health and strength for many years of good 
work to come. Yours Fraternally, 

James McWhinnie, 

Pastor Free St. Bap. Ch. 

Tears of joy and gratitude streamed down his 
face as he heard that letter; and it seemed to give 
him new courage. And for weeks after, when he 
was occasionally desponding he would say, " Well, 
read me McWhinnie's letter again ; that always 
cheers me." 

He asked me to reply to this letter, making various 
inquiries, which I did, and soon after he received 
the following : 

Portland, Maine, Nov. 9, 1875. 

Dear Brother Dickersox: I was very glad to hear 
from Mrs. Dickerson in answer to my previous letter, 
and to learn that you are improving so fast. If your 
health is restored with the healing of the limb, you will 
be one of the happiest men in Chicago. Your wife asks 
several questions which I will try to answer. 

I was not so reduced in flesh as in vitality when I 
suffered the amputation of my leg. I had lain on the 
battle-field for nearly thirteen days exposed to some 
terrible weather, and having very little food. I was 
wounded in the legs, one of my knees being completely 
shattered. On being brought into our lines inflamma- 
tion became excessive, and the leg was amputated about 
seven inches above the knee. I lay a long time in a 
doubtful condition, and the limb not healing, I had a 
large abscess form in it, which nearly cost me my life. 
After that it was found that necrosis of the femur had 
set in; and about six months from the amputation the 



256 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

whole thigh bone was removed so far as the socket. 
New bone, however, was already forming, which at last 
became strong enough to use, and the leg healing, I 
procured a wooden leg just one year after the amputa- 
tion. [Then he gives his experience as to the best kind 
of crutches, how they should be used, etc., and closes in 
this way]: Let me say that it requires courage to use a 
wooden leg as well as to lose the old one. At first it is 
painful, awkward, discouraging work. The first time I 
used mine, I was sorry the bullet had not gone through 
my head instead of my knee! I thought I must go back 
to my crutches for life. But I determined I would 
walk on the leg if it killed me. So I threw away one of 
my canes (I had been using two) and went at it. And 
very soon I conquered the thing, and received many 
compliments for my superior walking; and I had to 
compete with the whole hospital, where there were one 
hundred and fifty of the same sort! Courage and care 
at the first will make one a good walker; timidity and 
carelessness will make him a bungler at it all his life. 

I do not know that I have answered all your questions 
seriatim; but if I can be of any assistance please com- 
mand my services. Yours is a great affliction, but with 
health restored and a good artificial leg, you will find 
life has not lost so much as you thought. May the Lord 
bless and comfort you both! 

Yours very truly, 

J. McAVhixxie. 

This letter affected Mr. Dickerson in many ways. 
It made him grateful that his suffering had been in 
comparison less protracted and intense, and that 
while suffering he had been at home and kindly cared 
for. It gave him hope and encouragement, and 



CHICAGO. 2o7 

diminished largely that terrible dread of the wooden 
leg which had constantly haunted him, but to which 
he had never given utterance until it was in so large 
a measure dissipated by these encouraging letters. 

By the first of November we were rejoicing in his 
manifest improvement, and the atmosphere of the 
house seemed less dreary. The children, hitherto 
excluded, could come in and talk with their father, 
and little Gracie, nearly two years old, could wait 
round his bedside, share his dainties, and be delighted 
with the old-time stories, and with the assurance of 
"a good frolic with her one of these days.*' By the 
close of the month, the healing process was still far- 
ther advanced, and it was a glad day when, though 
obliged to be carried to the table, he could sit with 
us and enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner. It was indeed 
a dinner of thanksgiving, and tears were in all our 
eyes as he asked a tender blessing on the meal. The 
neatly arranged table, the flowers and the fruit that 
adorned it, the " Welcome " wrought in evergreens, 
and every little mark of care and love, brimmed his 
heart and eyes with overflowing gratitude. 

The same apparent improvement continued 
through the month of December. He writes thus 
to his old Wilmington friend, Dr. William Aikman, 
then residing in Detroit : 

December 6, 1ST5. 

Rev. Dr. Aikman. My rery dear brother : You will 
excuse my pencil I know; for, bolstered up as I am, pen 
and ink would be very troublesome facilities. 

Your kind letter has touched my heart, and awakened 
memories of the most tender kind. Y ourself, your wife 

11* 



258 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

and your dear children, as they were in the solemn and 
eventful days of the war, have been passing before me, 
and forms of my own loved ones blend with them — forms 
that have vanished to the peaceful skies. 

I have indeed been terribly afflicted. A sufferer from 
rheumatic fever for nearly a year, and then laid aside 
with an inflamed knee for many months of terrible 
agony, I finally, when wasted to ninety pounds, sub- 
mitted to the knife and the saw of the surgeon. On the 
7th of October, the mysterious etherized cap was drawn 
over my face. As I knew in whom T trusted, I was calm 
as if sinking to a natural sleep! But oh! the fearful, 
desolate weeks of reaction, weakness and pain! I thank 
God they are behind me. Many a time have I sorrowed 
that I ever awoke from the surgeon's table. But I am 
now comparatively comfortable, and gaining slowly. 
I am so thin and sore that I fail to get sound, sweet 
sleep; otherwise I think I should soon be on crutches 
and about the house. How genuine your sympathy will 
be for me, I know full well. In the no distant future I 
see brighter skies. 

But now I am tired out and will stop. Give my love 
to your dear wife and all the children. 

My own family are well. We number just as we did 
in 1861 — only darling Ada went home to the better life, 
and our baby Grace, nearly two years old, makes good 
the number. Mrs. Dickerson sends her love. 

I am, as ever, your friend and brother, 

James S. Dickerson. 

The following paragraphs are from a letter to his 
uncle, James Stokes, dated Dec. 20 : 

* * * I am getting on but very slowly. I am so 
wasted and my bones so sore that I can not sit or lie 
long in any one place. Hence I fail to get good sleep. 



CHICAGO. 259 

This is my great drawback now. I sit up for a while 
every day. My doctor comes now but twice a week, and 
says everything looks hopeful. 

I think God has guided me in all my sad way, and I 
praise Him for His mercies. I hope to be on my crutches 
in a few days. We are all usually well. Emma begins 
to look as bright and cheery as ever. A month ago, I 
had to call her up fifteen or twenty times in the night; — 
now, only once or twice. I really think her strength was 
providentially increased to meet the terrible strain on 
her body, heart and mind. " As thy day, so shall thy 
strength be." Blessed promise. 

Give my love to Aunt Caroline and all the children. 
May God bless you all ! 

Affectionately, your nephew, 

James S. Dickersox. 

During all this period, many letters of tender sym- 
pathy were coming to him. His old Church in 
Boston, gladdened our Christmas hearth with a gen- 
erous present, and our hearts with still more precious 
words of affectionate remembrance. From a large 
gathering of Boston Baptists, in his former house of 
worship, came by vote of the body a telegraphic 
message of greeting and sympathy, to which he 
gratefully responded. 

Mr. Dickerson's improvement continued until the 
middle of January. About this time an abscess 
which had been gathering in his "little leg," as we 
termed the amputated limb, broke ; and from this 
point he began slowly — and for some weeks, quite 
imperceptibly — to decline. Even yet, however, we 
indulged no fear of a fatal termination of the dis- 
ease, and my husband said to me one day, " We 



260 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

have been through a long and hard year of trials — 
hard for me, hard for you. How thankful should 
we be that the worst is over ; that your husband is 
spared and the outlook so favorable ! " During all this 
time he was cheerful, with an almost uninterrupted 
flow of his old-time spirits. Letters were read and 
written, stories were told, songs were sung, conver- 
sations passing " from grave to gay, from lively to 
severe," were held alike with family and with friends, 
and if all did not go " merry as a marriage bell," yet, 
at least, we none of us caught the muffled death- 
knell that was in the near distance. The antici- 
pated wooden leg became naturally an object of 
speculation ; and since Mr. McWhinnie's letter had 
so largely disarmed it of its terrors, he could al- 
lude to it not only without nervousness, but often 
in his characteristic style of playful banter. The 
knowledge that the dreaded wood, which was to re- 
place the lost member, would be of so light weight 
(not more than three and a half pounds), had taken 
a much heavier weight from off his mind, and he 
looked forward to the time when thus refurnished 
he should again tread the paths of active duty. He 
could, like Hood, joke about his infirmities, illustrat- 
ing the laughing face under which the most serious 
feeling will sometimes disguise itself. Hood's grim 
joke of " too much mustard for the quantity of meat," 
when his wife was laying a mustard plaster on his 
emaciated limb, might be paralleled by several sim- 
ilar playful allusions of Mr. Dickerson to his unfor- 
tunate member. I will mention but one. He was 
asked by one of the children, if he could move his 



CHICAGO. 261 

" little leg" without touching it (he had had for 
weeks no power over it, and we had had to lift and 
move it). " O yes," he replied, uncovering it as he 
sat in his easy chair, and moving it up and down in 
a comical way, — "Speak for yourself, old fellow: 
be the stump orator of the occasion!*' 

But the playful glided insensibly and naturally 
into the serious. His humor rippled brightly and 
delicately over the deep stream of earnest thought 
and emotion. His prayers at family worship, as he 
sat in his chair, unable either to rise or to kneel, 
were full of devout aspirations ; the breathings of a 
soul glowing with gratitude to the Lord for His 
mercies, and making such tender references to the 
dark weeks of suffering as often melted us to tears. 
He would sing with us until he began to cough, and 
then, after an interval of choking, would join in 
again with his clear, sweet voice. Such grand old 
hymns as, "The Star of Bethlehem," "Rock of 
Ages," " There is a Land of Pure Delight,*' " Jesus, 
Thy name I love," " Nearer my God to Thee," were 
among those which he constantly called for, and 
never tired of hearing. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



HIS FINAL ILLNESS. 



i had noticed through February that my husband 
was somewhat weaker, but as this was a natural con- 
sequence of the abscess, and as his appetite was good, 
I did not regard it as at all dangerous. He was in 
the meantime so hopeful, so much interested in all 
external and public matters, especially in all that 
concerned the paper and the church, with the interests 
of both of which he hoped confidently to be soon 
again actively connected, that all serious fears were 
kept in constant abeyance, and rarely broke in on the 
delusive dream of his recovery. From that dream, 
however, we were at length effectually aroused. 
In March, we observed that he sat up each clay a 
shorter time than the day previous ; he was less an- 
imated and became sooner weary, and by the middle 
of the month the physician's kindly uttered but 
dreadful words, " no hope," thrilled alike on our ears 
and hearts. I now began to note down each even- 
ing such words as would be precious in the remem- 
brance, and perhaps I can not do better than make 
extracts from this sad diary. 

The scenes on which they lift the veil seem, in- 
deed, almost too sacred for strangers' eyes : yet, I 
may recall and make my own the words of Fanny 



262 



FINAL ILLNESS. 263 

Forester when, in her memories of Mrs. Sarah B. 
Judson, she portrays the closing scenes in the life of 
her first husband. "There is nothing on earth so 
beautiful as the household in which love forever 
smiles, and where religion walks as counselor and 
friend. No cloud can darken it, for its twin stars are 
centered in the soul. No storm can make it trem- 
ble — it has an earthly support, the gift of Heaven, 
and a heavenly anchor. But the roof beneath which 
it dwells shelters a sacred spot, where the curious 
eye must not peer nor the stranger-foot tread. So 
it is with the warm soul-breathing missives now 
beside me. * * * At this moment, however, a 
pair of young, dark eyes rise before me, that will 
read the page with the interest of an only and be- 
loved daughter, and then turn back tearfully to the 
sad scenes which she can not yet have entirely for- 
gotten. For her sake shall a few passages be writ- 
ten down that may perhaps recall lost fragments of 
the picture now in her heart." 

So I feel as I look at "dear little Blue Eyes" 
standing beside me, who remembers her father's 
kind words and songs and stories, and her many lit- 
tle acts of love toward him; and who will, I am 
persuaded, prize, next to her Bible, the precious her- 
itage of these his last utterances. So I feel as I turn 
in thought to the older children who now hold in 
remembrance much that is recorded here, but who, 
when years shall cloud and dim the impression, will 
seek these pages to refresh their hearts with the 
revived and brightened memory. And the further 
hope that in following a life of such Christian fidel- 



264 JAMES S. DICKERSO^T. 

ity and loveliness to its peaceful and triumphant 
close some timid spirits may find a lessening of their 
dread of the last conflict, induces me partially to un- 
veil what might seem too sacred for the intruding 
gaze of the stranger. But it is not for himself alone 
that the servant of God receives his precious experi- 
ences of grace; it is for all who have the like her- 
itage of sin and guilt and moral struggle. The life 
of one Christian should, as far as possible, be made 
available for the benefit of all ; the joys and 
triumphs of each believer become the common her- 
itage of the Church, and especially the light that for 
one has brightened the dark valley, should, as far as 
maybe, be caught and thrown back to cheer others 
that are bound to the same inevitable pathway. 

Therefore I make some extracts from my evening 
jottings at that time, when, after the house was 
quiet, the dear one comfortably settled for a nap, I 
sat down in the stillness and wrote these words, 
which would soon, I knew, be among the last on 
earth from him whose voice was music to my ear ; 
in whose sunny smile I basked with joy, and whose 
loving words made earth a Heaven to me. 

March 15. * * * He seems to have more fever 
the last few days, and his cough increases very much, 
but the acute pain from which he has suffered has meas- 
urably passed away and he rests better, though his sleep 
is not refreshing. * * * His hope never fails. He is 
submissive and patient, kind and loving to us all, and so 
appreciative of all we do. Even in his weariness he is 
always thinking of others. He thanks "the dear Lord" 
so often " for all His mercies to us," — thanks Him for his 



LAST DAYS. 265 

sleep, for quiet, for me, for his happy home, for his com- 
parative comfort when he thinks of the days and the 
weeks after the amputation. He seems so grateful that 
I keep well, and am able to take care of him and be with 
him all the time. 

As I remarked this afternoon that my head ached 
badly, I supposed because I cried so this morning, he 
said, 

"Yes, I wanted to tell you that it was very unprofita- 
ble, but I thought you would feel better to have your 
cry out. But, darling, you must try to keep cheerful. 
I am struggling to stay on this side of the river, and it 
is hard sometimes to feel cheerful; but if you get blue 
and discouraged it will be harder still for me; that takes 
me right down. If it were not for you and the children, 
I would be glad to die this minute; that is, unless I could 
be well again, and do icork, and be of some service." 
Then, in a more cheerful tone, he added, " But I think 
it is all coming right; we ought to be hopeful. I edipect 
to enjoy many happy years with you yet." O, how hard 
it is for me to respond when he makes such remarks! 

This evening, as he looked at Gracie, he said: 

"Dear little tot! what a comfort she has been to us. 
I think her presence and sweet cunning ways have 
helped you to bear the burdens." All his words are 
full of love. Sometimes I think he feels that he is 
growing worse, and I notice how his eyes will follow 
Gracie, ofttimes with a sad look as if he thought. " poor 
little dear, I'm afraid you will soon be left without a 
dear papa." But he says nothing of the kind, and does 
not want to hear a discouraging word, or see a sad look, 
or catch even the echo of a sigh. 

A day or two since he had a beautiful vision which 
brought gladness to his heart, but sorrow to mine. He 

12 



266 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

awoke from a short nap and said in his pleasant voice: 
"Darling, are you there?" I was sitting at the foot of 
the bed where he could not see me, and when I replied, 
he remarked: 

"I have had a glorious vision. I hated to awake and 
see it vanish. I don't know where I was exactly, but 
just before me I saw a beautiful being lift a curtain, and 
then, turning toward me, he said, 'Gaze in there; there 
is joy and gladness.' And I looked and saw such a beau- 
tiful place; oh, I can't describe it, but it was filled with 
lovely, happy people, and they were full of mirth and 
joy. And the one who lifted the curtain said, 4 There 
is no pain or suffering, but only joy to those who enter 
here.' Then the curtain dropped and the vision van- 
ished. Now," he added, "I take that for a good omen. 
I think the glad times are soon coming back to us, and 
our home will be filled with mirth and joy again." But 
the vision brought no such glad thoughts to me! I felt 
that the curtain would soon be lifted and he would enter 
that joyful home, but I should be left here, and the glad 
times were not yet for me. 

Thursday, March 16. To-day he has passed quite 
comfortably, except that at times his breath is very short, 
and his couo-hino* spells wearing; and hard to o*et through 
with. But when they are easier than he anticipated, 
oh, how grateful he is, saying so earnestly. " Thank the 
dear Lord for that." But if he has a long, hard time, 
he is so patient and uncomplaining ! He still has those 
terrible chills and sweats; is very restless, very feverish. 
I have had to keep the windows open all day, notwith- 
standing the wind and rain and snow, and even then he 
has many times felt a sense of suffocation, and the pain 
in his chest seems to increase. * * * This evening 
sister Fannv has been sino-ino* some sweet old-fashioned 



LAST DAYS. 267 

hvmns in the parlor, which have given him great de- 
light. His eyes filled as he listened to them, and when 
he talked of the blessed times in the old prayer-meet- 
ings, spoke of the different members that used to take 
part, and said, " I thank the dear Lord that He ever hon- 
ored me by allowing me to preach the blessed gospel. 
Blessed be His name! He has helped me all through 
my life! His grace has done it all. Had I not been 
converted and become a minister, I don't know to what 
a depth of depravity I might have sunk. But the Lord 
has blessed me all through. When a friendless orphan 
He was near me, and all the good I have accomplished, 
all the little I have done, is by His grace and that alone, 
and I hope I can honor Him still for many years of work 
in His blessed cause." He is still full of hope, and feels 
terribly if I look sad or discouraged. I read to him from 
James, to-night, the chapter which contains the words, 
" And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the 
Lord will raise him up." O, how fervently he responded 
amen, to that passage! * * * Indeed he does not 
want to hear anything discourao-ino; about any matters 
whatever. 

He is always glad to see his eldest son when he comes 
home, and enjoys a nice talk with him about affairs at 
the office; but if anything on the shady side is spoken 
of, he says, "Don't tell me that, Spencer; that makes 
me nervous; tell me all the pleasant things." He talks 
to him much of old times and old experiences, partly 
to entertain himself, I often think. 

He has not been able to get up into his chair for some 
days, and to-day did not even sit up in the bed against 
the pillows. It tires him to raise his head, and he takes 
much of his food through a glass tube. He is very weak, 
and he breathes so heavily that his whole body moves. 



268 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

But he keeps talking of getting well, and said to-day: 
"Do you think I had better get up and try to write a 
few letters, or shall I let them go for a few days?" I 
told him he had better remain in the bed while he was 
so weak; that there was nothing special to be gained by 
getting up. So he seemed satisfied, and I carefully turned 
him, rubbed his sore shoulder with bay rum, which re- 
freshed him somewhat, and he said, "O, I'm so glad I 
did not make the exertion, this is so much better." * * * 

Friday, March 17. This has been a day of trouble 
and sorrow. His breath has been shorter than ever be- 
fore. He told me this morning that he sometimes felt 
frightened about himself, and was afraid he might lose 
his breath altogether some of these times. He said, 
"You must raise me up, and give me mere air when 
you see me so affected." The doctor was here this after- 
noon, but gave him no encouragement. After talking to 
him about his troubles awhile, he said, "Do you ever 
feel like giving it all up, doctor?" " Xo, only occasion- 
ally," Mr. Dickerson replied, " when I have those suffocat- 
ing times. Xo, I am coming through all right." With a 
sad face, taking his hand, the doctor said, " Your faith 
is great, and that is the best part of it. If there was 
anything to build upon, and we could check this cough, 
you might soon get better." "If there was" — O, what 
little words, but of what great import to me. "If there 
was:" — They echoed through my heart like a dirge, and 
my silent, agonizing prayer ascended to Heaven, 
"Canst Thou not raise him up, even from this low 
place? O, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me;" 
but I could not say, "Xevertheless not my will, but Thine 
be done." 

X r ot withstanding these words from the doctor, he still 
feels hopeful. He says he has had an assurance from the 



LAST DAYS. 269 

Lord that he would get well, and remarked to me, "I 
wish you could get hold of the promises as I have done, 
and feel more hopeful, for I see you often look despond- 
ing, and almost despairing." I had a few words with the 
doctor in the parlor, and when I came back into the room 
Mr. Dickerson asked, "What does the doctor say? I 
see he is worried, and you are worried, and it troubles 
me." I replied, " The doctor feels almost discouraged. 
You are so weak and your pulse so high." " O, dear, 
dear," he said, "I am a poor, weak, sick body, and I 
must carry the burden, carry you all, when the doctor 
and every one else seems discouraged. I wish you all 
felt hopeful, and helped me along." What could I say? 
My tears were my only answer. * * * 

Saturday, March 18. I read to Mr. Dickerson last 
evening the 118th Psalm, in which are the verses, "Thou 
hast afflicted me sore, Thou hast brought me low, but Thou 
hast not given me over to death;" to which he responded, 
"No, no, thank the dear Lord, no." And another, "1 
shall not die, but live and declare the works of the 
Lord," to which he softly said, " Yes, yes " — and when I 
had done reading, he remarked, " That is a good Psalm; 
mark that one." This has been a quiet day. He has 
slept a great deal, and the pain is not as severe in his 
chest. He has not coughed as often, or as severely. 
Dr. Smith called this afternoon, and sat with him a few 
moments. He enjoyed talking to him, and to Dr. Cheney 
who was here a few days since, but he sees very few of 
those who call, and the few but for a short time. As Dr. 
Smith looked at a picture of the castle of St. Angelo, 
which hung above the fire-place, he said, "What a fine 
picture that is! How often I have crossed that bridge. 
How I should love to go there again!" Then after a 
moment he added, "I often think I may go again." 



270 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

"Yes," said Mr. Dickerson, in a cheerful voice; "Well, 
when you go, take me with you. I sometimes dream of 
going again!" "I could wish for no better company," 
replied Dr. Smith. But after an instant, with a sad 
look on his face, Mr. Dickerson said, " Sometimes I think 
it is all a dream!" Ah yes! he will soon start on a 
journey to the other shore, but not hand in hand with 
me for a joyful rest and recreation in those Eastern 
lands where we once enioved so much together and 
spent so many happy days. * * * He seemed very 
much exhausted to-night about ten o'clock, and looked 
more sunken and sick than I had ever seen him. I was 
just ready to read to him from the Bible, but^he seemed 
so weary I said, " Perhaps you feel too tired to-night to 
hear me read?" He waited a few moments and then said, 
"I do feel very weary— but read me a few verses. Let 
us honor the word of God." 

Sunday, March 19. No particular change to-day, 
except that he does not look as bright, and seems very, 
very weak. The children all went to Sunday school and 
to church. I read the Watchman, the Examiner, and 
the Standard to Mr. Dickerson while they were gone, 
and he seemed to enjoy them; but afterward as I turned 
him upon the bed, he was suffering so extremely, his 
throat burning, and his breath short, he said with a sigh, 
" This is hardly worth fighting for. 1 would almost rather 
g;o than to stay and suffer anv longer." He still has 
these terrible chills, which we who are well know little 
of. He dreads them so that he has sometimes, said when 
they begin to crawl over him, "I would rather die than 
go through another " — but, he would add, " I will try to 
bear all that the Lord sends upon me, and He knows 
why it is best." 

* * * * ]_) r# Everts saw him a few moments this 



LAST DAYS. 271 

afternoon, and from his looks and words Mr. Dickerson 
imagined that he too (who has always talked so hope- 
fully) was becoming discouraged; for, as he was leaving 
the room, Mr. D. spoke up with his natural, full-toned 
voice, " Doctor, don't be discouraged. Keep praying 
with cheerful hope and faith.'- In a short prayer he offered 
in bed the other night — his last audible prayer— he said, 
u I)ear Lord, though I am weary, and worn, and very 
weak, I thank Thee to-night that the day has been as 
comfortable as it has; that I have had so little acute 
pain, and so much to be grateful for. Give us a sweet 
sleep to-night, and may I awake in the morning feeling 
brighter and stronger. May it be Thy will to restore me 
soon to health, to enjoy all the rightful pleasures of life 
with the dear ones I love, and to work for Thee, that 
work I love so much, so well. Dear Lord, sustain me ; 
hold me up when I am ready to sink. Let not Satan, 
the author of all our pain and sorrows, gain the mastery 
over me. Be thou xeae me. Give me hope of heart, 
faith of mind, and constant trust in Thee. Bless dear 
Emma! ********* 
Be near her, and bless the dear children, and all in 
the house, and all we love. Keep us and care for us, 
and may I feel Thine arm upholding me all the time. 
We ask for Jesus' sake. Amen." 

This evening I asked him if there was any particular 
chapter he would like to hear me read. He replied, 
" Yes, read in Acts of Paul's release from prison." I did 
so, and he enjoyed it. 

Monday, March 20. A cold, wintry morning. It is 
snowing fast, and everything looks dreary in the outer 
world, but not more so than are our hearts to-day. * * * 
This has been a hard, sad day, and at five o'clock, as I 
tried to raise him up I did not know but he would die 



272 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

in my arms, he panted and gasped for so long a time. I 
was alone with him. He told me soon after that he was 
in great distress, and had very strange feelings. I imme- 
diately sent for the doctor. I saw him before he came 
into the room, and told him that when he saw Mr. Dick- 
erson, if he felt that he could not live a great many days, 
he had better tell him so. I did not want him to die 
without saying something to us all, and I felt now that 
knowing his condition could not make much difference 
with him. Besides, I said, though no one in the world 
is better prepared to go, I think he would rather know 
it, if he must die, than to be taken by surprise. The 
doctor replied, "You had better send for your friends, 
and I will tell him." Spencer had then gone out to 
telegraph to Mr. Dickerson's sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, and 
to Mr. Goodman, who was in New York. The doctor 
went in, sat down by him, took his hand, timed his pulse, 
and then said, "Well, doctor, how do you feel to-night?" 
Mr. Dickerson replied in his usual, cheerful tone, "I feel 
pretty comfortable just now, and I think I breathe easier 
than I did. Now, if you can do something to help this 
throat of mine, which is very sore and raw, I think I 
shall soon feel better." The doctor replied slowly, " Ah, 
doctor, that throat is a minor trouble. The struggle is 
coming down here in your chest" (laying his hand there, 
and looking at him tenderly). " Can you bear to have me 
tell you .something? " " Yes," said Mr. Dickerson, " any 
thing, doctor, anything." The doctor said very slowly, 
" I have done many hard things in my life, but this is the 
hardest thing I ever did, to come and tell you that you 
can not live long. 'Tis hard to tell one who has 
suffered so long and so patiently that he can not get 
well." Mr. Dickerson replied in the sweetest voice, 
"That does not trouble me, doctor; no, that does not 



LAST DAYS. 278 

trouble me! " Then his physician added, " I have enjoyed 
your fellowship, doctor; I have loved you so much; more 
than I can tell you, and I have dreaded to come and tell 
you this." " That love has been recijorocated," said Mr. 
Dickerson. "Yes," said the doctor, " I knew it, and that 
is what has made me happy. I have used my utmost 
skill to help you, but I can not cure you;" and after a 
little pause he said tenderly, with a trembling voice, 
" but the Lord can" Then he prepared some medicine 
for him, and told him he would do all he could to alleviate 
him. Mr. D. said very quietly and calmly, "That is all 
I ask, doctor." With a tearful good-bye the doctor 
pressed his hand, and left the room. As I took my seat 
on an ottoman by the bed, I said, as soon as I could 
speak, "You know now, darling, why I could not keep 
cheerful, why I have been in agony for weeks past." 
Taking my hand, and speaking, oh, so softly, he said, 
"Yes, butjwe'll talk about it by-and-bye." He wanted a 
little time to think, for the words of the doctor must 
have shocked him, even though he was prepared for the 
change. We sat quiet for a while, when he said very 
calmly, "The Lord has been our Friend all along, and He 
will be our Friend still. He loves us and will care for 
us; and if the doctor is right, and I must go, it will not 
be long before we shall all be together again, a happy 
band." Then brightening up, and with a smile on his 
face, as he looked at me, he said, " But I don't give it 
up yet. Though the doctor and everyone else is dis- 
couraged, you and I, darling, will fight it out still." 
"Yes," I replied, "I will always fight with you and for 
you, and the Lord's arm is not shortened that it can not 
save, nor his ear heavy that it can not hear." " That's it, 
you have it," was his emphatic response. 

It was now about eleven o'clock. Spencer came in 

18 



274 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

and said he would sit up until four o'clock, so I lay on 
the bed by the side of the dear one; lay there for the last 
time. O, the agony of those hours none but God can 
know. I tried to be calm, tried to speak cheerfully and 
even hopefully, when I knew that in a few hours, or a 
few days at the farthest, the sweet spirit would be gone. 
How sick and sunken'and emaciated he looked, and yet 
how beautiful was the smile on his face, how sweet the 
loving words that came from his lips, how natural his 
voice! * * * He took nourishment of different kinds 
through the night, and slept some, but was not refreshed. 
Toward morning he grew very restless, and he said he 
was not sleeping when we thought he was, but was 
thinking of various things. He talked of Heaven, and 
of heavenly things, and seemed calm and happy. He 
told me about many matters and what I should do when 
he was gone. Among other things he said, u I know it 
will be hard and sad for you^ darling, but try to be cheer- 
ful, try to be hopeful, and remember that I shall be 
waiting to greet you on the other side." 

I asked him once, " Do you feel happy ? w " O yes," 
he replied; and I added, " But you do feel disappointed." 
" Yes," he said, "I do somewhat; but Christ is precious." 
I asked, " Would you like to have me send for Dr. 
Cheney ? Perhaps you would like to talk with him." 
He hesitated a moment, and then said, ** Xo, that work 
has all been done. Just give me air, and Christ will do 
all the rest." I said to him, " Do you feel that you are 
almost home, and can you see the pearly gates ? n He 
looked up, and, with a heavenly smile illuminating his 
face, he said, u Ah, darling! I have lived near them for 
a long time." To-day, as the children were singing 
sweet hymns in the parlor, he said, " O, the gospel, the 
gospel! what an honor to be permitted to preach it!" 



LAST DAYS. 275 

And then the tears would fill his eves as he said, M O, 
how I would love to preach again!" but immediately 
added, as though that might seem like repining, " But 
it's all right, all right; the Lord does not need me, and 
the o'ood work is rolling: on." He tries to sino- some of 
the dear old hymns himself, but soon begins to cough, 
and has to give it up. The other day I noticed a dis- 
appointed look on his face when he found he could not 
sing the hymn Lyte, beginning, 

Jesus, thy name I love, 

All other names above. 

Jesus, my Lord, — 

I said to him, " I am sorry you can not sing that. I 
will get the children to sing it for you." " No," he said, 
" the piano disturbs me now, and I can think it over, if 
I can not sing it. I sometimes wonder why the Lord 
keeps me on this sick-bed, when I feel that I might be 
working for Him, and doing something for His cause, 
and for the paper; but He knows why it is, and I will 
try to submit cheerfully, and lie here as long as He 
wants me to, and feel that it is all riffht." In dictating: 
a letter to a friend a short time before this, he said, " It 
is so much easier to be out fighting for the Lord than 
to lie here cheerfully submitting to His will." 

Many times these past few weeks he has sung, " Over 
Jordan," and has repeatedly asked us to sing it at 
family worship; but it always made me sad and filled my 
heart with sorrowful forebodings. 

Tuesday, March 21. I sent immediately after break- 
fast for an old and dear friend, as I thought the end 
might be near, and I wanted some one of experience 
with me. What a great change had come over him 
during the night! His hope was gone, and he sank 



276 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

immediately. As I was eating a little breakfast near 
him, he said, "Have you telegraphed for Grace ?" (Mrs. 
Van Dusen.) " Yes" I replied, " and for Mr. Good- 
man, too." "O, I am glad," he said, "I should love to 
see them both." " Do you feel that you are almost 
there ?" I said. "Yes, darling, and Jesus is very near/* 
I tried to speak calmly as I said, " It will soon be all 
joy to you, darling; you will have no more pain, no 
more trouble; it will not be hard to breathe in the 
heavenly air. There are many waiting there to greet 
you; Julia and Ada, and the dear little children." He 
seemed glad that I could talk in this way, and imme- 
diately added, " Yes, and my father and your father, and 
many others." And then, with a wonderful smile 
overspreading his countenance, he said, " Yes, I've been 
over the roll-call, and see a great many there." * * * 

I had cried a great deal during the night and after 
breakfast, and 1 had been praying that I might be able 
to comfort him, make his last hours more happy, and 
not speak so much of my sorrow, my broken heart. I 
said to myself, " I can not keep him — he is surely going 
home, and he can not make my grief lighter; but I can 
make his last hours somewhat brighter, if I keep calm, 
and I will try to do so." About nine o'clock in the 
morning, as I sat near him, I heard a bird singing out 
of doors. The windows were wide open, the morning 
clear and bright, but very cold, and as I looked out at 
the sunshine, I thought I would say, " This is a beautiful 
day to go;" but, checking myself, I said, "What a 
bright, beautiful morning this is! Do you hear that bird 
singing?" That expression seemed to gladden his heart 
at once, and he replied, " Yes, I hear it, and those are 
cheerful words, darling; I love to hear that." 

He had rather dreaded to have his old friend come in. 



LAST DAYS. 277 

for fear, I presume, that she would cry, and speak of 
the terrible sadness of his going, and yet he did want 
to see her; so, when she came toward him, he put 
out his hand, and said, "Good morning, Anna, I am 
glad you have come." Then added, slowly and emphat- 
ically, "Jesus is here, and it's all right." Xot long 
after her coming he asked her to come to him, and, 
as she bent near him, he thanked her for all her 
kindness, and speaking a few words in reference to 
their long and happy acquaintance, he bade her good- 
bye, saying, " That is all I have the strength to say." I 
then said, u While you feel able, would you not like to 
say something to each of the children, and to us all?" 
Very quietly he replied, " Yes." He no doubt felt that 
the end was near, and yet it seemed as if he still thought 
there was a possibility of recovery; for, as he began to 
speak to Willie, he said, " Willie, my boy, my dear boy, 
they tell me that it seems as if I were coming to the 
end (though I am not certain) — " He then spoke so 
sweetly, so lovingly to each one, saying something 
appropriate to each of the family, and to sister Fanny 
and his brother's daughter, who were with us — words 
that never will be forgotten by any of them. When 
dear little Gracie, just two years old, was brought in and 
sat in my lap by the head of the bed, her father turned 
toward her with a sweet smile, and said, " Kiss me, 
Gracie." I lifted her over, and he kissed her twice, and 
then, in her cheery little voice she repeated after me, 
"Dear papa, good-bye. I will meet you in heaven. I 
will love Jesus and meet you there." How sweetly 
amid the gloom and sorrow her little voice sounded, and 
how lovely her father looked as he said, " God bless you, 
my dear little child." After speaking slowly and at 
some length to each one, he told us about many things 



278 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

he wanted us to do, and then said to Spencer, his oldest 
son, " You will understand all about the matters with 
Mamma, and you will not abuse the confidence, I know." 
And then he said so beautifully to them all, when it was 
becoming very difficult for him to speak, "And now, 
children, I want to thank dear, blessed mamma — and I 
want to do it before you all — for all her love and care. 
She has been an angel of joy and light to us — dear, 
blessed mamma! — and when I am gone, she will need 
you all to stand by her, and help her ; and you will, I 
know ! " His face shone like an angel's all the time he 
had been speaking, and it seemed as if he were almost 
transfigured before us. When he had said all this, he 
offered a few words of prayer, beginning, "And now, 
Lord, my strength is almost gone." I can not recall the 
other words. I said to him, "You are tired now ; rest a 
little," to which he replied, " I am, and it is so hard to 
get my breath." The children went to dinner, while I 
stayed with him. How calm he was ! how triumphant ! 
how he rested on the Lord ! Jesus was a present help 
in trouble. I told him what a joyful entrance he would 
have to the heavenly land ; that a starry crown awaited 
him there. I quoted the passage, " They that turn many 
to righteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and 
ever." He said, " Don't talk so, darling. I have been 
very unfaithful ; but Jesus is precious." 

After dinner, the children gathered around, and I 
asked him if there were any things he would like to give 
to them — "things you have worn," I said. " O, yes," 
he replied, as though he had thought of it, but had for- 
gotten to speak of it. He then gave to each one some- 
thing, and asked, "Are you all satisfied ? Do they please 
you ? " Then he sent messages of love to his brothers 
and sister, his uncle and aunt, and other friends ; and 



LAST DAYS. 279 

after a little while he said : " Is there any thing else you 
would like to ask me ? You must try to think now, if 
there is any thing you want to know about. Perhaps 
there may be something delicate you would like to ask ; 
if there is, you had better ask it now." I have no doubt 
he was thinking of his funeral and burial, but we could 
not ask him. He was very tired, and soon fell asleep. 

About half-past two, Dr. Everts came in, and sat down 
near him. When Mr. Dickerson awoke and recognized 
him, he extended his cold hand to him, but for a 
moment did not speak. Dr. Everts made a few remarks, 
when Mr. Dickerson said : " My breath is very short, and 
this is a sudden change, doctor." Dr. Everts then knelt 
by the bed, and offered a short, fervent prayer, asking 
the Lord to be with him as he went down to the valley 
of the shadow of death, support him, and put underneath 
him His everlasting arms — to which Mr. Dickerson 
responded "Amen, amen." A few moments after, Dr. 
Everts asked him if he had any message to leave for his 
brethren in the ministry. He was silent for an instant, 
and then said, very distinctly : " Tell them to stand for 
God and the Baptists, for Christ and Sis truth, a 
spiritual church." The second clause he uttered em- 
phatically as an explanation of the first ; his good sense, 
Dr. Everts remarked, suggested it, for fear that some 
might call him bigoted, although the two had the same 
meaning to him. Soon after, he took a little wine whey, 
and I placed him in a comfortable position, readjusted 
the pillows, and took his hand and sat down by him. 
I asked, " Is there any thing more I can do for you ? " 
With a sweet smile upon his face, and looking as though 
he already caught glimpses of a brighter world, he 
answered, " No, darling, all is lovely." That was the 
last sentence he uttered, except when he said, " Lift me 



280 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

higher." In trying to take some nourishment a little 
while after this, he had a great struggle for breath, and 
seemed in agony, when I offered a little, fervent prayer, 
"Help him now, dear Savior, and make it easy for him," 
to which he responded "Amen, amen." Shortly after, 
he was in great distress, and asked me to lift him up. 
I raised his head a little, but he said, " Lift me higher, 
higher, higher," and with his cold, stiff arms extended, I 
lifted him upright in the bed, got pillows behind him, 
rested his dear head on my bosom, and felt that the end 
was near. For one instant a terrible, distressing look, 
like a dark shadow, came upon his face, and — he was 
speechless. But he could hear what I said to him, and 
saw that all his dear ones were about him. T repeated 
many comforting passages of scripture, and he would 
move his head or press my hand so that I understood 
that he heard me. These, among others, gave him com- 
fort : " Though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy 
rod and Thy staff they comfort me." " Eye hath not 
seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart 
of man, the things that are laid up for the children of 
God." " I am with you alway, even unto the end of the 
world." " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." 
He seemed to love to hear them, and a sweet peace and 
a happy look overspread his countenance. Then I re- 
peated hymns that he loved : 

Jesus can make a dying bed 

As soft as downy pillows are, 
While on His breast I lay my head, 
And breathe my life out sweetly there. 
And another : 

There is a land of pure delight, 
Where saints immortal reign, 
Eternal day excludes the night, 
And pleasures banish pain. 



LAST DAYS. 281 

I repeated most of that, and, as I asked, " Do you 
hear me, darling ? Shall I say more ? " he would press 
my hand as a sign that he wanted me to. He kept doing 
so, as I repeatedly asked him, until I could just feel the 
quiver of one finger. I said to him, " You are almost 
there. Jesus will soon take you ; you will 

" Rest your weary feet 
By the crystal waters sweet, 
When the peaceful shores you'll greet, 
Over Jordan. 

" You will soon be over, darling. c In My Father's 
house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for 
you ; and if I go and prepare a place for you, I will 
return again and bring you to myself, that where I am, 
there ye may be also.' " One of his favorite hymns was 
that beginning, 

My hope is built on nothing less 
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness. 

I repeated that slowly and distinctly. When I came 
to the last stanza, 

His oath, his covenant, and blood, 
Support me 'neath the 'whelming flood; 
When all around my soul gives way, 
He then is all my hope and stay ; 
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand — 
All other ground is sinking sand ; 

and to the fourth line : 

He then is all my hope and stay, 

I could feel that he made a great effort to let me know 
that he heard and felt them. I know that he experienced 
then that Christ was his hope and stay ; I know that 
underneath him were the everlasting arms. His head 
still rested sweetly and lovingly on my bosom, and it 
seemed as if he were conscious as I kissed his dear fore- 

79« 



282 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

head, and the children came, one by one, and kissed him, 
that dear, loving ones were very near him, trying to 
comfort him, trying to cheer him, as he started alone on 
that last journey ; and, I have no doubt, he saw angel 
forms and loving arms extended, ready to welcome him 
to his heavenly home. AVe tried to sing " Rock of 
Ages," thinking he might still hear our voices ; but we 
could not get through one verse. I repeated the re- 
mainder of it to him ; but how I could do it, how 7 I had 
the power to say all I did, when my heart w r as agonized 
and breaking — when my idol w T as vanishing from my 
sight — I can account for in no other way than this : the 
Lord helped me to choke back the tears and the groans, 
and to cheer and comfort him till the last. When I had 
finished this last verse, 

While I draw this fleeting breath, 
When mine eyelids close in death, 
When I rise to worlds unknown, 
See Thee on Thy judgment throne, 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee — 

we could scarcely see him breathing, and, a moment 
after, he was gone. The Lord had answ r ered the prayer 
in that hymn. There was no struggle, no gasping, ap- 
parently no pain. He simply stopped breathing — fell 
asleep in Jesus. Those pearly gates had been opened, 
and he w T as in the midst of the wonders of that beauti- 
ful Home, of which he had often preached and talked, 
and was near Jesus, I know, and praising Him for His 
love and His salvation. But — we were here. " My idol 
had vanished, my earth-star fled." 

The following account of the burial service is 
taken from the Standard of March 30, 1876 : 



FUNERAL SERVICES. 283 

The funeral of Dr. Dickerson took place on Friday, 
24th inst., at the First Baptist Church. A brief service 
was held at the house, previous to the departure for the 
church, prayer being offered by Dr. Dickerson's editorial 
associate. A considerable number of sympathizing- 
friends had assembled at the residence of the family, to 
accompany them to the church, among whom were sev- 
eral Baptist ministers of the city. The pall-bearers were 
Revs. Leroy Church, T. W. Goodspeed, J. M. Whitehead, 
J. Donnelley, Jr., F. G. Thearle, and J. A. Smith. A 
bitter and driving storm came up as the hour for public 
service approached; yet, upon the arrival of the funeral 
cortege at the church, a large number was found as- 
sembled, indicating, in the circumstances, the warm 
regard in which Dr. Dickerson was held, and the sym- 
pathy felt for those so sadly bereaved. Besides the 
immediate family of Dr. Dickerson, the group of mourn- 
ers included his brother, T. S. Dickerson, Esq., with 
members of his family ; a sister, Mrs. Van Dusen, of New 
York ; and Mrs. Richardson, mother of Mrs. Dickerson, 
and widow of the late Prof. Richardson, of the University 
of Rochester. 

As the procession entered the room in which the 
audience were assembled, a chant was sung by the choir. 
The prayer of invocation having been offered by Dr. 
Northrup, who read in connection the Ninetieth Psalm, 
the choir sanor the hvmn, " Rock of Aofes " a favorite 
with Dr. Dickerson, and sung to him shortly before he 
breathed his last. Dr. Everts, the pastor by whom Dr. 
Dickerson had been baptized in his youth, and who had 
ever since been his trusted friend and counselor, ad- 
dressed the assembly, dwelling largely upon the early 
Christian experience of the deceased, with incidents of 
his life, and the more marked features of his character. 



284 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

We may copy here the closing words of Dr. 
Everts' address : 

He came to this city apparently to die. Still it is not 
a lost experience, even to us ; for it is a great thing to 
see a Christian die, and the experience of death, as it 
came to him, was a most blessed spiritual reality. Death 
is naturally an enemy to us, but faith in Christ can con- 
quer even this last enemy. 

Death came to our brother through a long sickness 
and through much suffering. His health was poor from 
the first, and he often thought he should be obliged to 
leave the pulpit on account of it. Still there was no 
complaining on his part, and he died very peacefully 
and calmly. Even during his sickness, his words were 
always hopeful and encouraging — to his friends, his 
pastor, and all. His death may be regarded as a com- 
plete Christian triumph. But he still lives with the 
Lord, and has onlv o-one before. 

Dr. Cheney, who followed, spoke especially of his 
acquaintance with Mr. Dickerson during his resi- 
dence in Philadelphia, dwelling at some length on 
the qualities of character he had noted in him 
during the many years of their intimate acquaint- 
ance and friendship : 

Catholic and kind as he was, he at the same time was 
thoroughly loyal to his own denomination. He was not 
a Baptist from mere sentiment, but from honest convic- 
tion and deliberate choice. As a student of the Bible 
he had thoroughly mastered the great principles he 
preached, and fcr their maintenance he was ready to 
risk his all. If any desired greater liberty than the 
Bible gives in regard to church polity or ordinances, 



FUKERAL SERVICES. 285 

they found in him no countenance or support. He loved 
his denomination with a love stronger than death. 

But, in looking over his public life, we are also 
impressed with the versatility of his talents. We have 
seen him as a business man, and he was at home in the 
walks of business. As an editor, he made a readable 
paper. His editorials were never dull ; they were 
bright and sparkling — often vigorous and strong. 
As a preacher, he was always true to his principles, 
always sought to lead his people to "search the Scrip- 
tures." I think he used illustrations freely, and there 
were frequent passages in his sermons of great pathos 
and tenderness. As a platform speaker he was peerless. 
His racy anecdote, his genial humor, his ready repartee, 
gave him power over an audience. But perhaps more 
than anywhere else he shone in social life as a pastor 
among his people. The old and the young, the rich and 
the poor alike found in him a true, loving, faithful friend. 
While he was the light and the life of every social circle 
he entered, still he was everywhere the Christian and 
the Christian minister. No wonder that his people loved 
him, or that he held so large a place in the hearts of his 
brethren in the ministry. 

In speaking of his public life and labors, I must not 
fail to emphasize his great love for his work. Next to 
his love of the gospel, he loved to preach that gospel ; 
or, if this privilege was denied him, he loved any work 
for Christ and His church. Scarcely have I seen him 
once during all the period of his sufferings, that he has 
not talked with me of the " precious gospel," and of the 
"precious privilege" of telling it to others. Though it 
cost him a great struggle to leave the pulpit with the 
conviction that he had no reasonable hope of returning 
to it, still the hope of working for Christ and truth in 



286 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

this field, I doubt not, sustained him weeks and even 
months when his frail earthly tabernacle was tottering 
to the fall. Even the last time I saw him, he was full 
of his chosen theme of work for Christ. " We shall yet 
do service together," he said, " for the Master whom we 
love so well." But when this hope of farther usefulness 
left him, his hold of life was loosened, and he entered, 
we doubt not, into the joy of his Lord. 

The closing prayer was then offered by Dr. Moss, 
President of the State University of Indiana. The 
lid was taken from the casket; friends looked for 
the last time at the serene, composed face ; and the 
beloved one was then borne away to his resting- 
place in Oakwood Cemetery. 

Among tributes, additional to those already given 
in this volume, we may take for insertion here the 
following, from an editorial article in the Standard. 
After alluding to various particulars of his life, which 
need not here be repeated, the article proceeds : 

We need not dwell longer upon these details. A life 
so active and so rich in results abounds in biographical 
material, but our failing space warns us to be brief. Dr. 
Dickerson came to Chicago, and the place that he hoped 
to till on the Standard, in the same spirit that had ruled 
his whole life. It was his wish and intention that the 
religious journal should be to him very much what the 
pulpit had been, affording, perhaps, less opportunity for 
immediate contact and for specific results, yet having in 
view the same ends, with a scope far wider and in some 
respects more potential. His associates in the Standard 
had looked to his coming with unusual interest and 
expectation, and during the few weeks that he was able 



FUNERAL SERVICES. 287 

to come to the office had increasing reason to feel that 
he was certain to be in every way a great accession to 
their force. His enterprising spirit gave spring and 
impulse, even under the disadvantageous circumstances 
which, in some respects, were so disappointing to him 
and to us, while every contribution of editorial matter, 
though written often upon his bed, and while tortured 
with pain and oppressed with the languor of long and 
wearisome confinement, was marked by his well-known 
qualities of nervous energy and practical adaptation. 
He always had words of cheer for his associates when 
they visited him, and his counsels in the management of 
the paper were invariably judicious and manly. It was 
his wish that this paper should be always firm, consistent, 
loyal to the truth, just in all its measures toward what- 
ever party or interest, and, at the same time, such in its 
spirit as a Christian journal ought to be. What he was 
accustomed to advise, in these respects, was in substance 
expressed in one of his latest sayings, when asked by 
Dr. Everts if he had any message for his brethren : 
"Tell them," was his reply, "tell them. to stand for God 
and the Baptists — for Christ and His truth" Uncon- 
sciously, he had uttered, in this, the motto of his whole 
career. 

We do not attempt, here, any detailed analysis of Dr. 
Dickerson's character. The sketch we have already 
given abounds with suggestions to that end, and may 
safely be left to make its own impression and tell its 
own tale. With singular kindness of spirit Dr. Dicker- 
son united remarkable decision and firmness. His sense 
of justice, his apprehension of truth as truth, were quick 
and clear, and these alone he accepted as the guides to 
conduct. As a Christian he was spiritual, devout, trust- 
ing — a child of God in the best sense of the word. 



288 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

Spiritual things, to him, were both real and precious ; he 
lived in the strength and the joy of them, while the 
experience of them was, in all his work, a constant in- 
spiration. As a friend he was true as steel ; he did not 
know what it was to be any man's enemy, and, where he 
differed or disapproved, always sought to judge with 
charity, to be generous so far as he could without ceasing 
to be just. In his own family he was loved as such a 
man could not fail to be, and he is now missed and 
mourned with a sorrow unspeakable. During his long 
and painful illness he has invariably received from them, 
especially on the part of his wife, all those loving, 
tender, and skillful offices which do so much to relieve 
and help. The sympathy of his brethren throughout the 
country he knew he had, and it has been to him a source 
of exceeding comfort. Above all, the presence of the 
dear Savior has been a light to him in the dark night 
and a brighter sunshine in the cheerful day, and in that 
faithful bosom his weary head rested as he died. 

Memorial services were held on the following 
Wednesday, March 29, in his old church in Boston, 
in which the Rev. Drs. Geo. C. Lorimer, A. Pollard, 
and E. K. Alden took a part. The house was draped 
in crape and trimmed with flowers, and in front of 
the pulpit was a life-size crayon portrait of the 
deceased. The church was filled to its utmost 
capacity by Dr. Dickerson's friends. 



IN MEMORIAM. 289 



IN MEMORIAM. 

Remarks of Rev. Geo. C. Lorimer, JD.JD., on the death 
of Rev. J. S. Dickerson, D.D , delivered in the 
South Baptist Church, Boston, March 29, 1876: 

Now kindred merit tills the sable bier. 
Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear ; 
Year chases year, decay pursues decay. 
Still drops some joy from withering life away. 

The spirit of these lines has invoked and gathered the 
solemn multitude who throng this sacred edifice to-night. 
YTe see as a matter of fact that death has a universal 
empire. The world may have made great progress since 
the days of our grandfathers and fathers. We may have 
better government, larger and more widely diffused 
knowledge, better and juster laws, a larger amount of 
happiness for the greater number. I hope and believe 
that, with some serious reservations, this is the case. 
Let us thank God for it. But the frontiers of life do 
not change with the generations of men, as do its 
attendant circumstances. We are born and we die just 
as our rudest ancestors ; nevertheless, each fresh experi- 
ence of this truth fills us with a nameless melancholy, 
and the tear unbidden falls on c * lacerated friendship.** 
Especially must we weep when the insatiate archery of 
death marks one who lived not for himself, but, turning: 
from the strifes of the world, the allurements of office, 
and the passion for gain, consecrated his life to the 
pursuit of excellence, to beneficent labor, and to the un- 
dying interests of the soul. 

Froude regrets that Protestants have no saints, regard- 
ing, as he does, the canonization of the loftier among 

13 



290 JAMES S. DICKERSOK 

those who have toiled and died as advantageous to those 
who yet survive. Evidently, the historian has fallen into 
a grievous error. We have our saints, but they are 
God-fashioned, not man- manufactured. This is the only 
difference between Romanists and ourselves. Grace 
molds those whom we honor, and we merely honor and 
venerate them — we never worship even the transfigured 
human; and the love of our' hearts, not Papal bull or 
sacerdotal ordinance, beatifies them to the children of 
time forever. 

We have our saints. Their names may be unknown, 
their position in the church may have been obscure, and 
their resting-places in the valley may be unmarked by 
monument ; but their faces shine through the mist from 
the other shore, and their example, speechless but elo- 
quent in its silence, pleads with us to follow where 
their footprints mark in the sands of time the way to 
Heaven. In our calendar, the mothers who inspired us, 
the fathers who admonished us, the friends who sustained 
us, and the disciples who cherished us, have an honored 
place. And among them, distinguished for consecrated 
learning and sanctified living, are the men whom the 
suffrages of free churches exalted to the rank of leaders 
and pastors. These are the saints we venerate — a goodly 
company, embracing in their ample fellowship not only 
the Luthers, the Hubmeyers, the Powells, the Fleet- 
woods, and the Bunyans, but the Staughtons, the Kemp- 
ers,the Wallers, the Baldwins, the Waylands, the Fullers, 
and the Dickersoxs as well. 

It was the custom in ancient Rome, a practice revived 
in some of the ceremonies of modern Papacy, to bring 
forward the images of departed friends, beautifully 
arrayed in all the emblems of their official dignity, 
while some one related the story of their achievements, 



IX MEMORIAM. 291 

in the hopes of quickening emulation on the part of the 
living. But we need no sculptured image to restore to 
memory the face of him whose death calls us together 
this evening. It is graven in our hearts ; and his name 
alone, without a single word of eulogy, awakens a re- 
sponse which, like the far-famed echo of Dodona, will 
prolong itself throughout the weary day of our pilgrim- 
age. Yet, it may be well, not for his glory but for 
our own good, if we meditate for a little season on his 
example as a lowly and dying servant of lofty and un- 
dying truth. 

James S. Dickerson was born in 1825, and, in the city 
of New York, at the early age of fourteen, surrendered 
his heart to the Savior. This important decision was 
reached through the influence and labors of Elder Jacob 
Knapp ; and for the great evangelist he entertained a 
life-long affection. In after years, when malice or envy 
sought to detract from the well-earned fame of Mr. 
Knapp, Mr. Dickerson, however unpopular it might 
make him with a certain class of professors, never hesi- 
tated to espouse his cause and vindicate him from the 
accusations of his enemies. The subject of this notice 
was baptized by the Rev. Dr. Everts, who by a happy 
providence was permitted to comfort him in his suffer- 
ings, and to pronounce over his remains a tribute of 
Christian and ministerial affection. 

Early in life, young Dickerson devoted himself to 
business pursuits, winning a name for probity and indus- 
try. One of his employers said quaintly that he feared 
the boy would never succeed in trade, his honesty was 
so rugged and incorruptible. Various circumstances, 
his natural temperament, and, as we believe, the call of 
God, inclined his feet to the path thus jestingly pointed 
out. In consequence, he entered Madison University in 
1842, and was graduated in 1818. 



292 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

Equipped for his work, you may judge his disappoint- 
ment when it was found that his voice would not stand 
the strain of pulpit labors. For a time he was compelled 
to abandon his cherished desire of preaching the Word 
of Life. But a kindred path of usefulness opened to 
him in connection with a religious paper, the Recorder* 
of Xew York. In this relation he remained for a short 
time, and was then called to Philadelphia to manage the 
affairs of the Publication Society. Accepting this posi- 
tion he soon justified the choice which had withdrawn 
him from a less responsible sphere of usefulness. The 
Society, then in its infancy, grew and matured under his 
vigorous administration ; and has since become in every 
sense of the word a truly national denominational insti- 
tution, unifying the once discordant sections of our 
common Zion. 

A great blessing was vouchsafed Dr. Dickerson while 
engaged in these labors. His voice was restored to him. 
This he interpreted as a renewal of his commission to 
preach the Gospel. Called to the pastorate of a church 
in Wilmington, Del., he gave full proof of his ministry 
and was rejoiced by the conversion of over three hun- 
dred souls. Here it was that his devotion to the temper- 
ance cause became conspicuous. His vivid imagination 
perceived the blight of drunkenness, and in glowing 
colors he exposed its deadly effect, not only on religion, 
but on knowledge, industry, and self-government as well. 
Many amusing incidents are related of his stubborn con- 
flict with the liquor makers, and the liquor sellers. In 
every instance he was more than a match for his adver- 
saries. Their denunciations and their ridicule never 
could swerve him one hair's breadth from his fixed 
resolution to fight to the bitter end the curse of intem- 
perance. 



IN MEMORIAM. 293 

While residing in Delaware the civil war broke out, 
which ravaged the South, and sent desolation to thou- 
sands of homes all over the land. From the very first 
he took his stand on the side of the Union. A national 
flag he placed over his pulpit, and fearlessly declared 
that he believed it represented the cause of liberty, 
justice and humanity. It should triumph ; it must tri- 
umph ; and to this sacred end he pledged his strength, 
his zeal, his intellect and his influence. The argument 
of economy, deemed by some in those stormy days to 
contain all that was conclusive to guide the Xorth in its 
policy toward the South, never presented itself to him. 
The question of profit and loss, in his judgment and 
before his conscience, was absorbed in the question of 
right and wrong. His maxim was, "Anything but dis- 
union — poverty sooner than disunion." Xor could he 
bring himself to support slavery, but believed most 
heartily that neither Christians, nor true Republican gov- 
ernments could consistently hold their fellow-beings in 
bondage. These sentiments exposed him to obloquy and 
calumny ; but he was immovable. He took his stand, 
and though friends misunderstood and reproached him, 
as Luther said before the Imperial Diet, " I can take no 
other,'- so he could only wait until the day of vindica- 
tion should arrive. " Follow my white plume." said the 
knightly monarch of France. "Follow the right,'' more 
glorious than waving plume or oriflamme, was the watch- 
word of the humble preacher. On the close of the war, 
not with spiteful and malignant spirit did he pursue 
those who had taken up arms against the Government. 
He longed for union — a union in spirit as well as in fact. 
He was anxious that the closest and most fraternal rela- 
tions should be promoted between the Baptists of the 
once alienated sections. Frequently in conversation 



294 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

with me, knowing my intense desire that the denomina- 
tion should be a unit in its benevolent and missionary 
operations, did he express his sympathy with my views, 
and his hearty intention when the proper time should 
arrive to do all within his power to facilitate their real- 
ization. 

From Wilmington, Dr. Dickerson removed to Pitts- 
burgh, where his labors were again blessed in a remark- 
able degree. Serious difficulties which imperilled the 
church he was instrumental in averting, and those per- 
sons who were arrayed against each other he succeeded 
in reconciling. It is needless to say that they all loved 
him, and regarded him as a brother as well as a pastor. 
He so endeared himself to the cono-reo-ation and to Chris- 
tians of other faiths that when he signified his intention 
of moving to Boston it caused universal sorrow. But 
his decision was reached in God's fear, and the devotion 
of man could not change him. He came, as you are 
aware, to your church, and within these walls his labors 
as a pastor ended. What he was to you, your sorrow wit- 
nesses; what he was to the denomination in this vicinity 
can never be truly estimated. He was the light of our 
ministers' conferences, the ardent supporter of every 
onward movement, and the friend of every youth leav- 
ing the retreat of the study for the adversities of the 
field. 

I met him for the first time in this city. We had 
entered upon our pulpit labors here during the same 
year, preaching our first sermons as pastors on the same 
day, and naturally this circumstance inclined us to mutual 
confidence and intimacy. I was warmly attached to him, 
and I have every reason to believe that he was to me. 
Frequently have we spent hours together in friendly 
intercourse, and advised with each other regarding those 



IN MEMORIAM. 295 

important movements in which we were called to bear a 
part. In this manner I became so fully acquainted with 
him that I felt sadly bereaved when he announced to me 
by letter his intended removal to Chicago. You know 
the rest. You know how the disease which developed 
here proved fatal there. You know how intensely your 
dear pastor suffered, and how he triumphed. Christ was 
with him through all the weary hours of bodily agony, 
gave him bright visions of the Heavenly Jerusalem, and 
permitted him to die in the arms of his kindred. " Lift 
me up! Higher, higher!" were among his closing 
words, symbolic of the holy aspiration of his nature; 
and while those around him tried literally to comply 
with his request, his spirit fled higher, far higher than 
mortal strength could bear it. 

Dr. Dickerson possessed hardly any of the physical 
attributes demanded in the preacher by the advocates of 
muscular Christianity. His soul tabernacled in a body 
that was little more than a vapor. He was small in 
stature; but, when he spoke, his person dilated with 
the majesty of his thoughts. His voice was soft and 
musical, not loud or harsh in tone. He did not thunder 
or lighten in his speech. Like sunshine, his words 
descended on the souls of his hearers, and the frozen 
were thawed, the cold were warmed, and the barren 
were fertilized. He was distinguished for genuineness. 
No affectation or mannerism disfigured his piety. Manly 
in his bearing, every one was impressed with the sin- 
cerity of his character. He was true to God, true to his 
friends, and true to himself. 

He was a man of great cheerfulness and of ready wit. 
I have seen him change a tempestuous meeting into a 
blessed calm, by some bon mot or quaint saying. Never 
at a loss for an answer, he would sometimes give to an 



296 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

opponent one, which not only disconcerted him, but 
which carried the -judgment of the audience against 
him. In the last letters I received from him, when in 
the daily endurance of great suffering, the same cheery, 
bright, hopeful spirit which distinguished him in health 
could be discerned. 

It is not claimed that Dr. Dickerson was a scholar. 
He was a cultivated man, but he did not devote all of 
his time to study or to literature. Familiar with the 
classics, he was fully convinced that an education 
founded on them alone would necessarily be faulty. Not 
to the frigid philosophy of the Porch, nor to the marvel- 
ous teachings of Socrates, nor to the resounding line of 
Homer did he look for regenerating influences, but to 
the sacred teachings of Christianity. His sentiments 
were expressed by Cowper many years ago : 

Sunk in Homer's mine, 
I lose my precious years, now soon to fail ; 
Handling his gold, which, howsoe'er it shine, 
Proves dross, when balanced in the Christian scale. 

He was, consequently, a faithful student of the Bible, 
and a sincere teacher of its truths. His devotion to this 
one Book made him a very positive and consistent 
Baptist. He was not sectarian in the sense that his 
affections were all absorbed by one body, to the ex- 
clusion of others ; for he sincerely loved Christians of 
every name, and sympathized with Christ's work every- 
where ; but he was sectarian in the sense that he 
believed the denomination in whose membership he 
enjoyed a place, was nearer to the New Testament 
standard of what churches should be, than any other. 

I know these few words fail to do justice to our de- 
parted friend ; but they may, at least, as a faint outline 



IN MEMORIAM. 297 

of what was once so clear and vivid to us, recall some of 
the features of his character. He has gone from us, and 
all that remains to us of his excellence is enshrined in 
memory. There let it remain, to be to our hearts an 
inspiration, and to our feet a light. This church -house 
is to me a lonely place without his presence. Never 
before have I passed up this aisle without a greeting 
from his sunny smile. But it is no longer here to wel- 
come me. The house is cheerless and sad. Let us, 
however, rejoice that our religion is the religion of hope. 
Beneath its banner we march, and beneath it we fight 
and die. So we may indulge the hope, amid this op- 
pressive gloom, that we shall meet our brother by-and- 
bye, when the old smile shall be restored, and when its 
brightness shall welcome us, after the storms of this life, 
to the peaceful haven of the life to come. Christians 
never say "good-bye" for the last time. There are no 
eternal "farewells" spoken by their lips. They may 
go out from each other in the evening, and one may 
wander for years o'er the rugged mountains of earth, 
and the other at once may pitch his tent on the plains 
of Heaven ; but they shall greet each other in the 
morning, when the glory of the Lord shall shine upon 
his church, new-risen from the dead, and decked in 
bridal splendor. 

In this dark world of sin and pain, 
We only meet to part again ; 
But when we reach the heavenly shore. 
We there shall meet to part no more. 
The hope that we shall meet that day 
Should chase our present griefs away. 

We insert here a letter from Rev. Dr. E. K. 
Alden, now Secretary of the American Board of 
Commissioners of Foreign Missions, but for nearly 



298 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

fifteen years the loved and honored pastor of the 
Phillips Church (Congregational) in South Boston, 
in response to a letter asking if he could recall his 
remarks at the Memorial Service held on the occa- 
sion of Mr. Dickerson's death, in Boston : 

Boston, May 16, 1877. 
My dear Mrs. Dickerson : Your letter of the 4th 
inst. was duly received. I am glad there is to be a per- 
manent memorial of your honored and beloved husband. 
Could I contribute a fraternal word to the memorial, 
which would be of any worth, most cheerfully would 
I do it. But it is quite impossible for me to recall or 
reproduce what came spontaneously from my heart, when 
addressing his and your sympathizing people face to face, 
at the memorial services in the South Baptist Church. 
Nor is it necessary. It is enough for me to bear my 
testimony to my high appreciation of the character which 
charmed even comparative strangers, and drew them 
toward him as though they had been life-lono* friends. 
This is my feeling as I think of him, and cherish his 
remembrance. I seem to have known him always, as I 
always hope to know him. I was prepared to love him 
before I met him, having heard him spoken of by a 
mutual friend in Pittsburgh. But the first grasp of his 
hand, the first greeting made me feel that we were 
indeed brothers in verity. I can not think of him with- 
out his presence rising before me ; there was so much in 
the maimer difficult to describe, needing no description 
for those who knew him, which made him so agreeable a 
companion. To meet him Sabbath morning, as I often 
did — he on his way to preach Christ to his flock, his 
face beaming with the anticipated joy ; I on the same 
delightful errand to my flock — was a benediction for 
the day. 



IN MEMORIAM. 299 

I would have trusted him anywhere, with anything', 
with perfect confidence that it would be utterly impos- 
sible for him in word, act, or thought to betray the trust. 

Yet there was something about your beloved husband 
which impressed me more and more as I knew him 
better and occasionally heard him speak, which made 
me feel that there was a heroic soul within him fighting 
against a somewhat feeble physical frame — a battle, too, 
in which the brave inner spirit was determined not to 
be worsted. How fearful that conflict was during the 
later years of his life, I did not know until he had 
passed away. You, and possibly some others, knew it 
well. I can not think of him without the tears involun- 
tarily starting in my eves as I remember meeting him 
on a certain occasion when, it is plain to me now, he 
was fighting at fearful odds, yet with a purpose which 
would never surrender. 

He impressed me as a speaker as one of the manliest 
of vigorous thinkers, his whole beino* borne on with the 
grandeur and the power of the thoughts which had taken 
possession of him. 

I should expect him to maintain his ground most 
resolutely upon any point upon which we might possibly 
have differed, and to have loved him all the more, and 
been loved by him all the more for our conscientious 
differences. 

I can not think of him as inactive even in the repose 
of Heaven. It is to me one of the brightest of antici- 
pations to think of such spirits as his, when at length 
they are released, as springing with a bound I know not 
to what heights of rapture, to what intensities of unex- 
hausted service. O glorious hour ! when without let or 
hindrance or any such thing, the spirit, refined and beau- 
tified by the discipline of earth, shall be permitted to 



300 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

expatiate as it will through all the many mansions of our 
Father's House ! As it is one of my pleasant remem- 
brances of the past that for a few years I walked by the 
side of your beloved husband as a brother in the minis- 
try of Christ in glad fraternal fellowship, so it is one of 
my most joyous anticipations that I may hope to meet 
him again, and occasionally climb with him some one 
of the everlasting hills. 

Excuse these rapidly written words — all I can do in 
the midst of pressing engagements. 

A thousand blessings rest upon you yourself and your 
household, is the prayer of 

Yours most fraternally, 

E. K. Aldex. 

With the letters which follow, from Professor 
Wilkinson, of Rochester Theological Seminary, and 
President Robins, of Colby University, this record 

may close : 

Tarkytowx, N.Y., Aug. 8, 1877. 
My dear Emma : I would very gladly bring my 
flower to add to the tribute which your faithful affection 
is gathering from many willing hands to lay on the 
fresh tomb of so much beauty and worth as perished in 
the death of your beloved husband. I know I can say 
nothing that will not have been already said by others 
before me ; for there was an openness about the nature 
of James S. Dickerson that laid all the secret of what 
w^as noble in him bare at once to every observer. Xo, 
that is not quite true either. Those who knew him best, 
knew that he had strength as well as vivacity, sound 
judgment as well as quick wit, penetrative sagacity as 
well as superficial discernment, real hard-schooled good- 
ness as w r ell as native geniality, patience to work as well 
as preternatural faculty to get at results without appar- 



m MEMORIAM. 301 

ent process of labor ; and all these things in our dear 
friend such as saw him but occasionally might easily 
have failed to guess. 

After all, the flavor of his character is something that 
onlv the memory of those who knew the man, and loved 
him, can retain. You can not gather it up, and fasten it 
from escaping, in a few words. You might as well hope 
to save the sparkle of champagne after exposing it to 
the air. That radiant good humor which was something 
other than the mere secretion of buoyant health — for 
he retained it, as we remember and admire, even in the 
extreme pains of his illness — that radiant good humor 
of his, how it purified and made sweet the overflow of 
his gayety and wit ! Xo sting lay concealed in the 
indescribable aptness of his swift and infallible repartee. 

His first thought was kind — that was the felicity of 
his nature. But if it had not been, his second thought 
would nave corrected the error — that was the fidelity 
of his conscience. 

They mistook who might suppose that such unfailing 
complaisance had no backbone of sturdy principle to 
stay it up and make it valuable. I know well, and you 
know better, that his gentle, almost sportive, yielding- 
ness in conversation played only within very fixed limits, 
which loyalty to his Master appointed. He was a brave 
and beautiful spirit. There are few like him left to die. 
Xot a man living will oTudo-e to his memory any word 
of ascription that he may win. I loved him, and I 
lament him. And I know that if I had entered still 
more deeply than I did into the heart of the man, it 
would have been only to love him and lament him more. 
Affectionately, your brother, 

"William C. Wilkinson. 



302 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

President Robins writes as follows : 

During the too short acquaintance which it was my 
pleasure to have with Dr. Dickerson, one trait of his 
character quite strongly impressed me, viz., the rare 
union in it of the sternest fidelity with the gentlest 
charity. 

There was a knightly heroism in his advocacy and 
defense of what he regarded the truth, which was, in the 
highest degree, attractive. Having taken his position, 
he was as firm as granite in maintaining it ; he could 
not be moved either by flattery or by frowns. 

Nor was there a trace of obstinacy in his firmness. 
Guided by a keen intelligence, he was always ready to 
give weighty reasons for his course, which, if not con- 
vincing to his opponents, were always worthy of their 
respect. His w r as not the obstructive I will not, but the 
aggressive I will. He comprehended the significance 
of our Lord's caution, " Think not that I am come to 
send peace on earth : 1 came not to send peace, but a 
sword." He, therefore, neither desired nor expected 
peace except as the victory of righteousness. He vehe- 
mently scorned the weak sentimentality and bastard 
charitv which shrinks from savins: and receiving blows 
in the urgent spiritual warfare committed by God to his 
church. He w T as a good soldier of Jesus Christ, and 
accepted a soldier's experience as fitting to the service 
to which he had given his life. 

Nor, moreover, was there a trace of selfishness in his 
firmness. He did not debase the truth by thrusting into 
it the alloy of his own personality. He was in no degree 
a partisan. He defended the truth, not because he had 
united his fortunes with it, but always and solely because 
it was God's. He sought no personal victory. He was 



IN MEMORIAM. 303 

one of these noble spirits whom Faber had in his mind 
when he sung; : 

God's will is sweetest to him when 
It triumphs at his cost. 

In this absence of mere personal motive in his public 
work is given the secret of the gentle charity which 
distinguished him. His most earnest opposition to error 
was love -inspired. He consciously sought the highest 
good of those whom he opposed. i; Faithful are the 
wounds of a friend ; but the kisses of an enemy are 
deceitful.'' He believed with all his heart that Christian 
truth is essential to the well-being of men. But he knew 
that, in the present state. Christians must necessarily 
sometimes differ in their apprehension of truth, and, 
hence, must " earnestly contend" against each other. 
Nevertheless, since the real end sought by all in these 
fraternal conflicts is one, he could see no reason why his 
own peace should be disturbed by personal feelings. 
His purpose was to bless, and for this he was ready to 
incur any danger, and to suffer the pangs of any mis- 
apprehension. He was ever in sympathy with the senti- 
ment of the prince of the apostles when he wrote to the 
Corinthian Christians, < ; I will gladly spend and be spent 
for you. though the more abundantly I love you, the 
less I be loved.*' His was the utterance of holy love, 
which can not endure error, since it is the deadly enemy 
of man. 

He, in this manner, illustrated the gospel which he 
preached, and left an example to his brethren worthy 
of their studv and imitation. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

RESUME OF CHARACTER 

BY A. C. KENDRICK. 

The writer of this, having largely manipulated 
the preceding pages, adds, by request, under his 
own name, the present resume of Dr. Dickerson's 
character. It is nearly a work of supererogation. 
The preceding pages have probably shed all needful 
light on that character ; and, if they have not, it is 
too late to do it now. If they have failed to depict 
a character of uncommon loveliness, and a life of 
eminent devotion to truth and duty, no summarizing 
of qualities can now accomplish it. The test of the 
man is in what he does ; and, though being is a vital 
part of doing, yet, if both have not revealed them- 
selves in the life, though our eulogy might fit out 
a man with "all the virtues under heaven," we 
should have but a galvanized caput mortuum, a result 
parallel to that Chinese steamer which, modeled 
with Chinese fidelity after the noblest European 
pattern, possessed every conceivable excellence ex- 
cept that it ivould not go. No classified inventory of 
virtues answers for the living character. 

Much less is any such minute analysis now re- 
quired, after the admirable portraitures of Dr. Dick- 
erson, drawn from various points of view, by the 
distinguished gentlemen who have kindly contributed 

304 



RESUME OF CHARACTER. 305 

their reminiscences to this volume. I shall simply 
endeavor to gather up a few general results, and to 
signalize, possibly, a few traits whose illustration 
did not come within the scope of the preceding- 
narrative. 

I wish, first, to emphasize, as strikingly illustrated 
by the career of Dr. Dickerson, the value of religious 
character, not merely as contributing to general use- 
fulness, but as a positive constituent of intellectual 
force and ability. Dr. Dickerson's native abilities 
would not be regarded as remarkable. He was not, 
as a college student, distinguished either by the 
depth or the range of his acquisitions ; by any 
unwonted brilliancy or even exactness of scholar- 
ship. Few persons in the college anticipated for 
him the efficient career which lay before him, simpbv 
because they did not know how steady a purpose 
ran through all his acts, and how solid a spiritual 
basis underlay his character. The soundness of his 
heart ministered even more than ordinarily to the 
strength of his intellect. He became a philosopher 
because he had become a Christian. He made sound 
moral estimates, and formed shrewd and large judg- 
ments of men and things, because of the high 
standard which he instinctively applied to them, 
and because of those lofty spiritual truths which 
were at once purifying his heart, and enriching and 
expanding his intellect. Who can tell how invigor- 
ating the atmosphere and how wide the range of 
vision in that lofty realm of spiritual truth in which 
he moved ? 

The reader of the poems of Lord Byron never 

13* 



306 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

ceases to admire the exquisite aesthetic sense, the 
more than classic grace and perfection of form in 
which he is nearly without a rival in our literature. 
In picturesque description, in rapid and brilliant 
narrative, in portraitures of life and nature, drawn 
with blended power, simplicity, and grace, he has 
few equals and no superiors. Yet, with all this, 
Lord Byron utterly fails to reach the highest realm 
of song ; and this, because he has no profound and 
no divine philosophy. He could make no excursions 
into the highest realms of thought without encoun- 
tering those truths from which his sneering skep- 
ticism recoiled, or which seemed to wither beneath 
his Mephistophelian touch. Brought face to face 
with God, and immortality, with the soul and all its 
highest and holiest relations, he is as dumb as the 
harp of Memnon before it thrilled to the kindling- 
beam of the morning. Thus Lord Byron stands on 
the cold and glittering heights of Parnassus, self- 
excluded from that lofty and glowing heaven of 
song, opening far above him, where Milton strikes 
his lyre at the very gates of the celestial city. 

I may be pardoned this digression for the im- 
portance of the truth on which it dwells. It can 
not, I think, be doubted, nor too frequently reiter- 
ated, that the highest forms of intellectual greatness 
and literary excellence demand as their condition 
the deep convictions of piety and the ennobling 
truths of religion. And the full benefit of these 
influences Dr. Dickerson enjoyed. They gave sound- 
ness to his practical judgment, and breadth to his 
intellectual surveys. They gave justness and deli- 



RESUME OF CHARACTER 307 

cacy to the balances in which he weighed large 
questions of individual and public interest. They 
gave him an activity and aggressiveness to which 
his mere intellectual tastes or personal ambitions 
would not have prompted him. They led him, in 
reading, to master the leading phases of modern 
scientific thought in its bearing on religion. They 
made him bold to take up and do battle for denomi- 
national questions, and, both in written and oTal dis- 
cussions, encounter successfully men whose merely 
scholarly claims were superior to his own. They 
brought him (while residing in Boston) at times 
before the Legislature of Massachusetts, and secured 
for him a more than respectful hearing in his advo- 
cacy of some of the great politico-moral questions 
of the day. They led him, on his removal to Wil- 
mington, at the outbreak of secession, to throw 
himself into the thick of the fight, fling the chal- 
lenge of defiance to the enemies of the Union, and, 
while abating not a whit of his religious patriotism 
in the kingdom and patience of his Master, to put 
forth an energy that largely prevented an additional 
State from swelling the ranks of secession, and 
secured a recognition of his efficient loyalty from 
the Chief Magistrate of the Union. 

This ripeness and fullness of Christian character 
was, in large measure, due to his fidelity in prayer. 
Dr. Dickerson was very eminently a man of prayer. 
He began his religious life with a strong faith in its 
efficacy. This faith never seems to have wavered ; 
but, founded originally on the assurances of the 
divine word, it was confirmed by a large personal 



308 JAMES S. DICKEliSOX. 

experience of its power. He knew what it was to 
wrestle with the Angel of the Covenant, and to 
wrest from apparently reluctant hands the waiting 
blessing. The challenge which Prof. Tynclalhs 
prayer-test, w r ith a wickedness surpassed only by 
its foolishness, flung into the face of the religious 
world, would have rebounded from the tried buckler 
of his faith like the impotent weapon of Priam from 
the shield of Pyrrhus. His trust in God was child- 
like and implicit. He knew in whom and wherefore 
he believed. While in his study, during the prepa- 
ration of his sermons, his breathings were often 
heard in the adjoining room, invoking the divine 
blessing both on their preparation and delivery. All 
his enterprises were inaugurated with prayer. All his 
burdens of duty and trial were borne to the Divine 
Helper, and in waiting on the Lord he perpetually 
renewed his strength, and kept up the high tone of his 
religious life. Thus he attained a rounded, symmetri- 
cal, and, it w r ould seem, almost complete, religious 
character. There were in it no ugly flaws. There 
were no seams in the joints of his harness through 
which malice could send a poisoned shaft ; there 
was nothing that made an if or a but requisite to 
modify the words of eulogy. His conscience was as 
sensitive as his principles were firm. Tender in his 
judgments of others, he was rigorous toward himself, 
and incapable of compromising a principle, or dally- 
ing with temptation. Of this fidelity to principle 
we might give many illustrations. The demands of 
principle were imperative, and neither in little nor 
in great could he be induced to disobey them. 



RESUME OF CHARACTER. 309 

One illustration of his Christian fidelity and 
kindness may not here be out of place. While 
walking along rapidly in the city of New York, in a 
rain-storm, he heard beside him a gentle voice 
saying, " Please, sir, share the shelter of my um- 
brella." Understanding the import of the proffer, 
he declined it, and passed on with quickened step. 
The woman followed, insisting that he should accept 
the proffered shelter, and stop at her house in an 
adjoining street until the shower was over. Struck 
by the plaintiveness of her tone, he turned, and, 
seeing a beautiful voting: woman, with a face as sad 
as the mourning garments which she wore, and an 
expression clearly alien from the life upon which she 
had entered, he paused, and. looking her gently in 
the face, asked her, " How could you come to this ? " 
She replied, telling, alas! the "old, old story'* — 
how she had been betrayed, and then discarded, and 
had no resource but in a life of shame. He walked 
along beside her, and told her of the Friend of the 
sinner and the outcast ; of Him who had pardoned 
the Magdalene, and had withheld his condemnation 
from the woman taken in adultery. Thus following 
her to her door with words of tender and faithful 
instruction and entreaty, he left her with an in- 
ward prayer that the}' might not prove ineffectual. 
Whether they did. the judgment will disclose. 

Dr. Dickerson's public life was mainly spent in 
the ministry. As a preacher, he was clear, impres- 
sive, and fervid. His voice was flexible and sonor- 
ous, his action graceful and spirited, and his religious 
earnestness, acting upon a temperament of exceeding 



310 JAMES S. DICKEKSON. 

susceptibility, made him sometimes thrillingly elo- 
quent. The lightness of his physical frame might, 
perhaps, seem to stand in the way of his producing 
the highest effects of eloquence. A certain material 
weight and massiveness sometimes greatly aid the 
orator in bearing down on the convictions and feel- 
ings of his audience. Yet Dr. Dickerson's lighter 
artillery was handled with a skill and dexterity that 
largely made good its deficiency in weight. And in 
intellectual and moral weight he was rarely or never 
lacking. His sermons were carefully prepared, with 
the aid of much reading and meditation, and then 
came direct from a heart glowing with divine ardor, 
and lips that had shared the heavenly anointing. 

As a pastor, it was scarcely possible that he should 
not be equally loved and useful. His nature was so 
kind and genial, his sympathies so quick and ardent, 
his play of feeling so rapid and instantaneous in its 
adaptation to all needs and characters, that he was 
sure of a welcome to whatever place a pastor's voca- 
tion might bring him. By the bed of the sick and 
dying, he was a skillful comforter. His tender and 
delicate instincts of spiritual perception seemed to 
follow the parting soul into the very waters of the 
dark river, and aid it in catching bright glimpses of 
the farther shore. He could minister to sorrowing 
bosoms the consolations of a heart which, if it 
had not sounded all the depths of affliction, had 
sounded the depths of that "love" which "knows 
the secret of grief," and that subtle sympathy which 
can divine the mystery of as yet unexperienced 
sorrow. And, as in the house of mourning, so 



RESUME OF CHARACTER. 311 

ill the house of feasting ; in the festive gatherings 
to which our religion lends its sanction, he was 
equally in demand, and his genial and inspiring 
presence crowned the gladness of the occasion. 

He was a skillful conductor of the prayer-meeting 
and the Sabbath-school. He would, in a quiet way, 
occasionally divert the school from its wonted routine 
of instruction, call out the teachers in brief prayers, 
or from his own treasures of thought and fertile 
and striking illustration, occupy the time to the 
profit and delight of all. 

Nor were his ministrations confined to the spiritual 
wants of his people. He was their shepherd also in 
their temporal matters. The kindness of his heart 
led him constantly to sympathize with them in their 
business perplexities, and to give them the judicious 
advice which a naturally shrewd judgment, consider- 
able experience of life, and an interest that made 
others' affairs his own, qualified him to give. Thus 
he often became the arbiter of their disputes ; the 
settler of their estates ; the almost legal adviser of 
the poor and friendless, rendering them invaluable 
service without money and without price. 

But if without price to them, often not without 
price to himself. In pecuniary matters he was gen- 
erous, perhaps even to fault. He brought and held 
his people up to the highest possible point of gener- 
ous giving ; but he did not urge them to a benevo- 
lence which he failed to practice himself. He 
advocated no cause to which he did not set the 
example of liberally contributing. He was ready to 
receive, and did repeatedly receive, aid from his 



312 JAMES S. DTCKERSON. 

wealthier relatives. This he felt as no humiliation, 
but gratefully recognized their generosity. But he 
could not and would not, himself, forego the luxury 
of ministering to the pecuniary necessities of others 
— that blessedness of giving which surpasses the 
blessedness of receiving. 

Indeed, there would be almost no end to the 
illustrations of Mr. Dickerson's kindness of heart. 
It acted in every conceivable form : its response to 
every appeal of want and suffering was instant and 
effective. Be the appeal religious or political, be 
the suffering of mind or of body — in the forts, of rebel 
prisoners; on the field, strewn with the dead and 
dying ; in the hospitals, where words of cheer were 
to be spoken, letters to be written, a wounded limb 
to be bandaged, a darkened soul to be pointed to its 
Savior — nothing came amiss; he had a heart and a 
hand for every emergency. He was as prompt for 
physical as for spiritual needs. In Boston, on one 
occasion, the cry was raised that a woman in an ad- 
joining house had set her clothes on fire, and was 
burning to death. Darting from the house, but 
seizing with quick thoughtfulness a large cloak or 
garment hanging in the hall, he flew to the woman, 
now rushing wildly round in helpless distraction, 
flung the cloak about her, and thus effectually 
smothered the flames, while he, at the same time, 
called for water to extinguish the fire which was 
spreading to other objects. He did all that could 
be done ; but was, indeed, " too late to save." She 
had already swallowed flame, and survived but a 
few hours. 



RESUME OF CHARACTER. 313 

A more striking incident occurred while he resided 
in Pittsburgh. Sitting at his study window, he wit- 
nessed a terrible explosion in a rolling-mill a block 
or two from the house. He did what every one 
would have done, and was in an instant down stairs, 
out of the house, and at the scene of the disaster 
But he did what many would not have done from 
lack of presence of mind and vigor for the emer- 
gency. Almost the first on the ground, he was quite 
the first, and for some time the only one, prepared for 
active measures. He rushed, himself, into the hot 
ashes, and drew forth the mutilated bodies, direct- 
ing others to bring straw, carpets, bandages, and 
other necessaries for the wounded. Perceiving that 
the engineer had been killed, he directed attention 
to the boiler which had not exploded, in order to 
avoid a second catastrophe. Thus he worked for 
two hours, his hands covered with blood and brains, 
and at the same time giving directions to others with 
the coolness of one experienced in such scenes. They 
took him for a surgeon, and obej^ed his instructions 
implicitly. One little incident individualizes the 
scene, and reminds us what depths of private woe 
lie beneath such a disaster. As he had just cared 
for and sent to his home one poor man who was ter- 
ribly wounded, he asked a little boy standing near 
if he knew who the man was. " That," replied the 
little fellow with streaming eyes, "is my papa." 
Alas! with every suffering "somebody's darling" 
alwaj^s suffers. The vibrations of sorrow are like 
the vibrations of the air. Who can guess their limit? 

Another illustration of Mr. Dickerson's kindness 

14 



314 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

of heart, lies in quite a different direction. Pass- 
ing one day along the street, he saw near a fruit- 
erer's stand a sweet-faced little girl with crutches 
looking wistfully at the fruit. Reminded at once of 
his own lame little daughter Ada, he crossed over 
and said, " Well, now my little girl, what do you see 
there that you would like ? " The shy little girl drop- 
ped her head half frightened, and put her crutches 
in motion to limp away. "But," said Mr. Dicker- 
son, " I want to give you this beautiful pear (cutting- 
one from its string) and a few of these fine grapes. 
And where are your pockets for a few of these nuts 
and cakes of sugar?*' With pleased astonishment 
the girl looked at him as if he had just come from 
fairy land. He then spoke to her some kind words, 
and as she departed he followed at a distance that he 
might see where she resided, and when again coming 
this way, might call and inquire after her. A little 
time after, being in this neighborhood, he again pro- 
cured a like supply of grapes and " goodies" and 
called at the home of his little beneficiary. The 
door was reluctantly and partially opened by the 
mistress of the house who rather curtly inquired 
what he wanted. He replied that he had become 
interested in a little lame girl who lived there, and 
had called to inquire after her and bring her a little 
fruit. The door instantly swung wide open, and the 
heart of the mother along with it, and exclaiming 
that this must be the gentleman who had shown such 
kindness to her daughter, she cordially welcomed him 
in. On conversing with them he found that, by a 
singular coincidence, the name of the little girl was 



RESUME OF CHARACTER 315 

Ada, the name of his own suffering daughter, and a 
certain resemblance to whom in her sweet face and 
form had first attracted him to her. After uttering 
words of cheer and peace to the household, and 
especially invoking upon it the peace of God, he 
departed, having, perhaps, made friends in this 
humble dwelling that would yet meet him at the 
gates of the Heavenly Paradise and welcome him 
into the everlasting habitations. An incident like 
this does not read very large in human history, but 
in the Heavenly annals it shines with 

A purer fame 
Than gathers round Marengo's name. 

In the huts of the poor, in the comforting of bro- 
ken hearts, in remembering those whom the world 
forgets, and honoring those whom the world despises, 
are displayed the real heroism, and achieved the real 
victories of earth. 

By the side of Dr. Dickerson's amiability and kind- 
ness of heart was the sunniness of his temper, the 
buoyancy of his spirit, a geniality and playfulness 
perpetually rippling over with humor, and often con- 
densing and sharpening itself into wit. Both the wit 
and the humor were always kindly. No poisoned 
shaft ever went from his quiver to rankle in any 
bosom. Not indeed but that both the humor and the 
wit might sometimes subserve very serious purposes, 
and accomplish what, perhaps, argument would have 
failed of. Of his witticisms the reader has had many 
specimens. When he said that after being a few 
hours at sea he felt like " throwing up " the whole 



316 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

voyage ; when he said that his little boy would like 
all the better to have everything thrown into "pi" 
provided it were of the right type; when with grim 
humor he called on his mutilated leg to "speak for 
itself, and be the stump orator of the occasion ;" when, 
in a public harangue against some proposed iniqui- 
tous anti-temperance legislation he was advising his 
audience to vote at the approaching election for a 
governor who would see that the license law was 
carried out, instead of for his opponent, who was an 
intemperate man, but a military leader, being inter- 
rupted with the cry that General would enforce 

the license law "at the pint of the bayonet/' he in- 
stantly retorted, "Yes, and with a pint of whisky at 
the other end," he but uttered sallies the like of 
which were continually springing from his lips and 
pen. But he never wounded, or wounded only to 
heal. The law of kindness was in his heart and on 
his lips. 

Dr. Dickerson was exceedingly happy in his wed- 
ded relations. His first wife was a lady of rare 
personal attractions and lovely character. In the 
early days of her bright and beautiful maidenhood 
the writer of this well remembers her, shedding bright- 
ness around the circle which she adorned in her oc- 
casional visits to Hamilton, where Mr. Dickerson first 
formed her acquaintance. As a wife and a mother 
she fulfilled the promise of her girlhood, and alike in 
his early struggles and his later still more arduous 
duties, she was the faithful friend, the judicious ad- 
viser, the joy and light of his home. His second wife, 
who, in addition to one surviving blue-eyed cherub 



"RESUME OF CHARACTER. 317 

of her own, has succeeded to the care of his children, 
stands, as editress of the present volume, and with 
the expunging proof-reader's pen in her hand, be- 
tween me and any words of indiscreet eulogy which 
my heart and judgment might prompt me to write. 
She can not, however, prevent me from saying that 
rarely has the loss of a first-beloved companion been 
more thoroughly made up. She can not prevent me 
from saying that she proved to him an equally capa- 
ble and devoted wife, and has shown ail a mother's 
devotion to his children ; and she will not wish to 
prevent me from saying that her devotion has been 
repaid by an answering tenderness and affection. 
The investment which her husband made in the 
Standard he transferred to her. She herself presides 
ably and gracefully over certain special editorial col- 
umns : and her oldest son is one of the business 
managers of the paper. Of the two wives one went 
hand in hand with him through the trials and labors 
of his earlier public life : the other shared the deeper 
sorrows and walked in the darker shadows that gath- 
ered round its close. But both met the unfailing 
sunniness of his temper with answering brightness 
and buoyancy. Both partly found, partly made, 
partly shared, as happy a home as often gladdens an 
earth in which happy homes are a precious reminder 
of the bliss of Eden. And both, in the land where 
there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage, 
will renew with him, and with each other, that bliss- 
ful intercourse which, with few alloys of memory, 
will have none of present bliss and glorious antici- 
pation. 



318 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

And here the curtain drops upon the record of a 
life of faithful service to God, and of large and varied 
service to humanity ; of a character beautiful in both 
its human and divine elements ; which, having blessed 
the earth, added, in parting hence, a priceless gem to 
the accumulating riches of Heaven. All honor to the 
Wondrous Name that amid the ruins of the apostacy 
works such miracles of grace, and refashions the 
crumbling structures of earthly character and destiny 
into the buildings not made with hands, eternal, in 
the Heavens! 



APPENDIX. 

A SUCCESSFUL LIFE. 

From the Memorial Sermon of Rev. J. D. Fulton, D.D.. 
delivered in the First Baptist Church, Chicago^ July 
2, - 1876, from the text: Mark x, 29, 30: "And 

Jesus answered and said : 'Verily I say unto you, 
there is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or 
sisters, or father, or mother, or (rife, or children, or 
lands, for my sake and the GospeTs, out he shall 
receive a hundredfold more in this time : houses and 
brethren and sisters, and mother and children and 
lands, with persecution, and in the world to come 
eternal life? 

Our Lord is author of the statement that it pays to 
serve Christ, and to endure hardness as a good soldier 
for the sake of the Gospel. The successful life which 
ceased its activities on earth, and entered upon the en- 
joyments of Heaven on Tuesday, March 21, 1876, as 
James S. Dickerson crossed the bridge! ess river, and 
received Christ's welcome plaudit, is a beautiful and 
forcible illustration of this encouraging truth. Happy 
are we in the privilege furnished us of contemplating his 
virtues, and studying the reasons underlying the victory 
won. Happy are we especially, because it is possible to 
praise without an "if," and to speak with enthusiasm of 
this wonderful character without a cautionary "but." 

Xo one in Philadelphia, where July 6, 1825, he was 
born, and where he afterward lived, or in Xew York, or 
Wilmington, or Pittsburgh, or Boston, where he served 
his day and generation; or in Chicago, where he laid 
aside his armor, will question this meed of praise. 

On every hand men, women, and children speak of him 
as one of the most genial of men, whose Christian life, 
beginning when he was fourteen years of age, found its 

319 



320 JAMES S. DICKERSOX. 

key-note in the words of Christ we have chosen as the 
foundation of remark. "For my sake and the Gospel's n 
he lived, and when he came to die, and was asked what 
message he would send to his brethren in the ministry, 

he replied slowly and considerately, " Tell them to stand 
for God and the Baptists; for Christ and His truth; a 
spiritual church/' Good George Herbert said in the six- 
teenth century: " The pastor is the deputy of Christ for 
the reducing of man to the obedience of God." Dr. 
Dickerson ever felt and acted this truth. He never for- 
got the Captain of his salvation, under whose flag he 
enlisted, and by whose orders he marched. * * * 

The year that has gone has carried into the eternal 
world many ripened sheaves. Solomon Peck. D. I)., for 
so many years the Secretary of the Missionary Union, 
died in Rochester in the ripeness of his fame. All 
who knew him mourned him. His work was done. He 
waited for the reward upon which he entered. I 
mourned him and rejoiced in his wonderful reward. 
Horatio B. Hackett, one of the best Greek scholars of 
this or of any land; a man who for years and years had 
shed the halo of his illustrious reputation upon the 
scholarship of the age, and upon the rising and rapidly 
growing repute of American Literature, passed from 
the activities of life without warning-. Like Enoch he 
walked with God, and he was not, for God took him. 
He was a personal friend. As a man he was the most 
jovial and genial of men. At our table he has been 
an honored guest, and the children were refreshed and 
regaled by his ennobling sentiments, the stories of travel, 
and recollections of those whose friendship he had en- 
joyed. He died, and the news startled and shocked us. 
The family talked about him. called up his beautiful life, 
and rejoiced that God had spared so wonderful a man to 
us so long. Dr. Osgood, the saintly missionary, whose 
shadow has blessed the Western churches, as his life 
made glad the East, died in ripened age. and his works 
praise him even while we mourn his loss. 

But when the tidings came of the death of dear Dick- 
erson, there was a scene I shall not soon forget. Since 
the shadow of mv mother's death crossed the threshold 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 321 

of our home, there has been no gloom like it. For 
myself I could only find refuge in the words of David 
concerning Jonathan : " I am distressed for thee, my 
brother; very pleasant hast thou been unto me; thy love 
to me was wonderful, passing the love of woman." For 
days I was unfitted for work. I visited the sea-shore 
where we passed a day together two years before. I re- 
called the picture of him as he was with his wife and 
children on the way to Boston in 1870, with his bright 
look and his cheery speech. I thought of him as week 
after week, and month after month, we drove together 
over the beautiful roads about Boston, when he was so 
full of life and enjoyment. Methinks now I hear his 
ringing laugh, his wit, his voice in song, and his voice in 
prayer. I will say now that I used then to look forward 
to such a time as this and I made all in my power of this 
life, as I knew it and loved it. Then he was in strength. 
A year later the hard winter in Boston told on him. I 
visited him, and though he was in bed suffering from in- 
flammatory rheumatism, we could not believe him in 
danger. Like a sky-rocket he waited but for the torch 
of wit, when he would go off and fill the room with gold 
rain. He came to see me afterward when convalescent, 
in Brooklyn. His words, who could forget them? His 
love shone through them. Then he wrote a letter to his 
wife which I have since read. It was like him. In it he 
said, "I am grateful that I feel so well this morning. If 
I can only get back a good voice once more — and I am 
quite hopeful — I think I am good for considerable ser- 
vice yet. There are many openings; but perhaps God 
has a work for me to do right where He has placed me, 
and it is far the wiser way to await His unfolded will. 1 
am ready to do it. That is the happiest as well as the 
most profitable path that is marked out by Him." This 
was his faith, as is seen by many utterances. In the 
sketch of Thomas Stokes, his honored ancestor, he writes 
as follows: "It has always been true, and it ever will 
be, that the path of duty is the direct road to earth's best 
success, and Heaven's sure reward. To attempt deeds 
because they are conspicuously great, to strive for the 
attainment of results that will be deemed brilliant, with- 



322 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

out putting forth a corresponding effort of an honest and 
homely endeavor, is at best but a higher type of ambi- 
tious vanity, and utterly delusive as to the achievement 
of even the cheap and unsubstantial honors of this 
world." * * * * 

Afterwards, he came here, and was sick. There was 
a swelling on his knee. He went to the Hot Springs 
of Arkansas. He was not going to die, not he. He was 
soon to be well. He liked Chicago; he liked his partners 
in the paper and in the editorial sanctum. He liked his 
old friend who baptized him, and his friend who stood 
with him in Philadelphia. He came back from Arkan- 
sas, and was soon to be well ; but he did not get well. 
I was in Toledo, Ohio, on my way home ; and, opening 
the Watchman and Reflector, saw that he was going to 
die. His leg was worse ; his physicians despaired of him. 
I took the first train for Chicago, and found him in High- 
land Park, that beautiful village by the Lake, in the 
home of his sister. He would not see me in bed ; I 
must wait a few minutes. I did so. I soon heard his 
crutches on the floor. The door opened. There was the 
eye, the laugh, the greeting, but my friend was wasted 
to a skeleton. We had three hours together. We 
walked just under Heaven's opened windows. We heard 
the angels sing, and Jesus speak, and yet we were here. 
Never had I so good a day. I went immediately out of 
the city. I never saw him more. This may not interest 
another one in all this world, but yet in eternity I shall 
thank God for the privilege of saying what is in my 
heart in this presence. A few days before he died, I 
was in Wilmington, Delaware. After preaching an ordi- 
nation sermon in another portion of the city, I went to 
his old church, where Brother Cook, the pastor, intro- 
duced me to the people, and I talked to them of Wil- 
mington as T had heard about it from the lips of their 
former pastor. How glad they were to hear from him ! 
They cried and laughed. They came and shook my 
hand, and sent love to him ; and, before I took the night 
train, I wrote of their love and sent it on, and the next 
I heard of him he was dead. He received the letter, and 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 323 

said he would answer it, but did not, for God beckoned 
him away. 

Now, in what Dr. Dickerson did for the denomination, 
I do not place him beside the eminent Secretary Peck, 
or the distinguished scholar, Hackett ; but in my heart 
I mourn for him as I never mourned for any other man. 
Why is this sorrow ? It is to answer this question I am 
here. Do not misunderstand me. Extravagant eulogy 
would offend him, and humiliate me. He was not the 
ripest scholar, the finest orator, the best writer, or the 
most successful pastor I ever knew. If he were only 
a writer, or a scholar, or an acceptable preacher or 
pastor, 1 would not be out of my pulpit, and in this 
place, to praise him. It was because he lived for Christ 
and His gospel, and so for friends, and for a lost world, 
as very few men ever lived for them. It was more 
the way he lived, than what he did, that binds me to 
him. He was the one man that could love and work, 
month after month, without so much as asking the ques- 
tion to his inner self, "Will this help me ?" Jonathan 
went out into the wood and strengthened David's hand 
in God. David never forgot it. Dr. Dickerson was 
doing this all the time. He was doing it for every one, 
for friends and foes ; for men who were true to him, and 
men who were false to him, but who were, in his estima- 
tion, true to Christ. He never betrayed any one to serve 
himself. He was strictly truthful. You could rely on 
him. He was not a party man. He was not any man's man. 
He was true to God, to self, and to all the world. If he 
expressed an opinion, he would stand by it. He knew 
no such thing as fear. He could look any man in the 
eye, and tell him the truth. He had, as a result, marvel- 
ous power. He was a known quantity. He was pure 
gold. You could trust him where you could not trace him. 
He would help because his heart was in the business. 
He was always surprising friends, his wife, his children, 
with the prodigality of his love. ***** 

It pays to serve Christ. This is an old theory which 
is ever putting forth new buds of hope, new flowers of 
promise, and ripening into harvests that furnish seed 



324 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

with which to sow the fields of the beyond. It pays to 
serve those who love Christ. 

This world is full of grand men and noble women. 
There is a great deal more of unselfishness going on 
than the Christian church gets credit for. My praise of 
dear Dickerson is spoken at a time when the air is 
full of the echoes of resounding ruin. The Devil is try- 
ing to prove that there are no brave, noble, unselfish 
men. The Demi is a liar. There are great numbers 
of them. As some of the living may slip, and so make 
an eulogy a mistake, it is a comfort to paint a picture 
of Dr. Dickerson, and, holding it up, ask men to gaze 
on it, and declare, this is what comes of giving the heart 
and life to Jesus Christ. In American society, a Chris- 
tian minister sustains vital relations to the people. * * * 
There are those who are disposed to ignore the truth 
that a minister should be respected for his leadership in 
business, for political acumen. The life of Dr. Dicker- 
son refutes their theory. His political sagacity was 
astute ; his business faculty was immense ; his leadership 
was almost prescient. There is evil in the world, and 
the greatest, the noblest, the purest, and the best are 
exposed to it. Their feet walk the ragged edge of a 
precipice, which is being revealed to the ruin of all. 
The battle of truth with error is not over. At times, 
wolves in sheep's clothing enter the fold. It may be, and 
it often is, the imperative duty of a good man to strip 
off the garments of the hypocrite, and expose corruption 
and deformity. Let us rejoice for the proof furnished 
in the life we are here to contemplate, that they who live 
for Christ and His gospel find in the end that God lives 
for them, and sees to it that right-doing is rewarded, and 
virtue and uprightness and honor are protected. 

Then Dr. Fulton speaks eloquently of the charac- 
ter of one of God's true ministers, what he can be in 
its broadest sense as a great power for good, and 
adds : 

We are here to glorify God because of what it is 
possible for Christ in a man to do or be, and for what a 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 325 

man in Christ can do or be. * * * * A minister 
that never suffered, that never knew grief or poverty, or 
deprivation or chastening, would be a barren tree in the 
midst of a wilderness. It is the heart furrowed deep 
with the ploughshare of suffering, that yields harvests 
which are essential to the spiritual life of mankind. 

The preacher then showed how from the beginning 
of the world, in the life of Abraham and the proph- 
ets, David, and other Old Testament worthies, thej^ 
had offered up the same prayer, " Save us for Thy 
mercy's sake," and that when Christ appeared in 
answer to this God-begotten prayer, He had opened 
His arms to the people and said, " Verily I say unto 
you, there is no man that hath left house, or breth- 
ren, or father, or mother, or wife or children, or lands 
for my sake and the gospel's, but he shall receive a 
hundred-fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, 
sisters and mother and children, and lands with per- 
secutions, and in the world to come eternal life." 

This is the new evangel. The curse is forgotten ; 
Abram is forgotten; Israel is no longer mentioned; and 
David passes from the mind. " For my sake and the 
gospel's," is now the refrain. That Being who took 
upon Himself our nature and became a man of sorrows, 
and acquainted with grief, who had not where to lay His 
head, whose wealth was unseen, and whose power was 
hidden, is to millions the chiefest among ten thousand, 
and the one altogether lovely; and for His sake, and His 
gospel's, they are ready to endure trial, suffering perse- 
cution, bear obloquy and martyrdom that they may tell 
the story of his undying love. Such a minister was 
James S. Dickerson. * * * 

Young Dickerson converted, was from the outset an 
uncompromising Baptist. Everyone knew it, and every- 
one respected him for it. How came this? Not by 
compromising with the truth; not by betraying friend- 



326 JAMES 8. DICKERSON. 

ship; not by keeping silence when the occasion demanded 
honest speech. He possessed in an eminent degree the 
power of self-abnegation. He was the soul of honor. 
He wore a window over his heart, and you could look 
within and see Christ on the throne and behold His dis- 
ciple sitting meekly at the feet of Him who is too wise 
to err, and too good to be unkind. He was a decided 
Christian. He was the youngest in his class, and per- 
haps the smartest, but he never sought promotion, nor 
did he court honor. Praise was sweet to him. To earn 
it and not to claim it was his habit. He could live if he 
was not chief. He entered Hamilton Institution in 1842, 
and graduated in 1848 with the highest honors of his 
class. But his throat troubled him, and as he could not 
then preach, he did the next best thing, helped others to 
do so, and went with Martin B. Anderson into the New 
York Recorder. The Bible Union excitement was at its 
height. Giants walked the earth then if ever in politics 
and religion. Webster, Clay and Calhouu were about 
retiring from active duty: Douglas and Lincoln were 
getting ready for their memorable campaign. The bat- 
tle of freedom was then being fought with words. The 
time for bullets followed in hot haste. In the religious 
world there was no rest, no calm, no quiet; but all was 
war, relentless war. * * * Dr. Dickerson possessed 
a composite character. He could have been a great 
student. No man with keener zest followed the track 
of truth. No one was more loyal to it. Xo one was 
more brave in defense of it; no one would more readily 
make sacrifices for it. And yet he was the merriest, the 
wittiest, the most genial and generous of men. * * * 
There is a story told of William Guthrie, that on one 
occasion he had been entertaining a company with mirth- 
provoking anecdotes, and being called on afterward to 
pray, he poured out his heart with such deep-felt fervor 
to God, that all were melted. When they rose from 
their knees, Durham, of Glasgow, a grave, solid man, as 
he is described, took him by the hand and said, " Willie, 
you are a happy man. If I had laughed as much as you 
did awhile ago, I could not have prayed for four and 
twenty hours." Dr. Dickerson resembled Guthrie. He 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 327 

could laugh and he could pray. His laughter and wit 
were to his life what are the ripples to the surface of a 
beautiful and deep-flowing stream. As I think of him I 
remember how I used to laugh at his gleaming wit, but 
forget what was said and only think of what was done. 
I have driven with him for hours along the shaded roads 
about Boston, and have talked with him about the work 
in which we were engaged; and although I remember 
his conversation from the moment he took his seat in the 
carriage was most enlivening and entertaining, and I am 
conscious that witty things were said, and that we laughed 
like boys let loose to play, my memory does not hold 
stories told or bon-mots uttered, but rather the purpose 
formed and strengthened to stand for God and truth with 
new courage and with fresh hope. Whether in private 
or in public, I never have known a man who lived more 
entirely "for Christ and His gospel." 

The preacher then describes a man who enters the 
pulpit from other than the highest motives, the honor 
of God, and the salvation of men, and adds : 

For such a man Dr. Dickerson had the most intense 
scorn. In his estimation the ministry is the noblest of 
professions, if a man's heart is in it; if otherwise, it is 
the most irksome and galling of professions. No talent, 
no genius, no popularity can sustain a man in the pastoral 
office who ignores the work, the consecration and the sac- 
rifice the profession demands. * * * Dr. Dickerson 
had great success, but not at the expense of principle. 
He found his success in God. He served Him faithfully, 
and organized for victory. He expected it to come be- 
cause God kept His throne. 

He then refers to his great boldness in standing 
for the right; to his work in Delaware and says that: 

When it cost some sacrifice here in the North to 
stand true to liberty, he in the South, in a slave State, 
threw the stars and stripes over his pulpit, and preached 
a sermon, the key-note of his work which followed, which 
Lincoln acknowledged held the state to the Union. * * * 



328 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

From the outset he chose Christ. He was an out and out 
Baptist. "For my sake and the gospel's" he lived, and 
moved, and had his being. His purpose ennobled him. 
He believed that he would be accursed if he preached 
any other gospel than that given him by Christ. He felt 
that he was a necessity. God had work for him to do. 
He was conscious of it. He never undervalued himself, 
nor did he allow himself to be undervalued. Good words, 
and good government and social order all stood identified 
with his work. He lived above the world because he 
lived for God. His eye was on his Master, and His 
smile was his reward. * * * Such a man can preach 
the gospel. His life is a mallet with which to drive the 
Christ of his tongue. He is on the Rock, while others 
are sinking into the wave. He can stretch out to lost 
men a helping hand. God is to him not only a necessity, 
but a joy; not only a covert from the storm, but a home, 
a pleasure, and a delight. * * * He has gone to 
Heaven leaving behind a memory unstained by a single 
base or selfish act. 

Dr. Fulton then speaks of the noble manner in 
which Mr. Dickerson, when associated with Dr. An- 
derson, managed the New York Recorder, and after- 
ward the Christian Chronicle in Philadelphia; of his 
work for the Publication Society ; and then of his 
success as pastor in Wilmington, Pittsburgh and Bos- 
ton. He knew him best in Boston, and from what 
he says of his life there we make some extracts. 

In Boston he was at home. Everybody loved him, and 
he seemed to love everybody. His residence was within 
sight of Boston Harbor, Dorchester Heights, and the 
finest stretch of hill and valley, sea and islands, city and 
shipping that can be found in the world. He gloried in 
the scenery, and he loved the town. As a preacher he 
took high rank from the first. As a platform speaker 
he had no superior. Wendell Phillips could not sway 
an audience with a more perfect mastery. As a temper- 
ance orator he was next to Gough. As in Pittsburgh, 



MEMORIAL SERMON. 329 

monev was to be raised and he raised it; burdens were 
to be lifted and his shoulder was first under the load, and 
the last to leave it. He never dreamed of failure, and 
never prepared for defeat. He expected victory, and 
alwavs had his band in waiting to welcome the combat- 
ants. He saw in every man a brother, and was ready to 
act toward every man a brother's part. He loved God 
with all his heart and mind and strength, and his neigh- 
bor as himself. He never loved unwisely. Xo stain 
ever came to the white soul and noble life of James S. 
Dickerson. He went up to Heaven leaving behind a wife 
rich with magnificent and loving memories, and children 
inheriting a record of which all might well be proud. * * * 

He had marvelous power over the impenitent. He 
knew how to speak of Jesus to sinful men. His adapta- 
tion to circumstances was wonderful. He could track 
doubt to its hiding-place, and uncover the possibilities 
of faith to the despairing. He was never at a loss for 
an expedient. I have seen him in a convention, when a 
congregation was surging with excitement, rise with a 
resolution, perhaps with a joke, or perhaps with an ap- 
peal, perhaps with a smile and perhaps with a tear, and 
that catch in his voice which was sure to create sympathy, 
mark out a way, and invite all to follow; and by the turn 
of a thought, or by the touch of a metaphor, carry the 
people with him and win the day. 

The reward of surrendering all to Christ is seen in 
what came to him. In his union with the church he came 
into fellowship with a company of friends that stood by 
him till the last. They helped him in college, they helped 
him to position, to a trip to Europe, to a home, and stood 
by him all through. His best friends were God's friends. 
This reward is seen in his early home. His first wife 
was found in L'tica. She was the adopted daughter of 
Julius Spencer, a man who held an honored place there. 
The present Mrs. Dickerson was one of her best friends, 
and this was a comfort to him whom both loved. She 
died after a short illness, and left behind four children, 
one helpless from hip-disease. His second wife was to 
him a perpetual source of love. It did me good to hear 
him talk of wife and children. I saw him soon after his 



l** 



330 JAMES S. DICKERSON. 

baby's eyes closed on earth and opened in Heaven. How 
sweet his trust! How joyous his outlook ! I saw him 
when the little child came to him who gladdened the last 
hours of life here. He was a fortunate man in his home, 
and in what his home brought him. He lived for it. He 
would not go to Europe without his wife. That tour was 
a treasure of joy to him ever after. His reward is found 
in his friends. Honors came to him early. In 1851 the 
the University of Rochester conferred upon him his A. 
M., and the degree of Doctor of Divinity came to him 
from the University of Lewisbiirg in 1868. He gave 
all to Christ. In every place he took the burden on his 
heart which Christ would have carried had He been man- 
ifest. He worked where Christ would have him work, 
and as nearly as possible as Christ would have worked. 
As the result he obtained a hundred-fold in this life, and 
has entered upon life everlasting. 

There's a Divinity within, 
That makes men great whene'er they will it; 
God works with all who dare to win, 
And the time cometh to reveal it. 

And now my pleasant duty is discharged. I have 
spoken of my friend, in my poor way, as best I could ; 
my conception of the man is within and untouched. 
1 have failed to present it. But you know something 
by this how he was loved. In due time I expect to 
meet him. He will be popular in Heaven. Methinks I 
see him very near Christ, more like John than any other 
— the bravest, the truest, the one disciple who followed 
Christ into the Judgment Hall, and stood bv Him close 
to the cross. There they are in the light of the throne. 
We shall see them by-and-by. Let us seek by noble 
and unselfish living to take up the fallen mantle and 
walk forth into the shadows of earth to minister unto all 
as best we can, till Jesus comes. 



